


To the Last Septim

by Gabbicav



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Adventure, Adventure & Romance, F/M, Novelization, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-10 23:46:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 49
Words: 288,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11702367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabbicav/pseuds/Gabbicav
Summary: From the safety of an arranged marriage within the Cyrodiil aristocracy, to a battle to protect all she holds dear. Sarina Passero is cast into a war she doesn't understand, pit against mysterious assassins and daedric forces, and tasked with an impossible quest; to close the jaws of Oblivion, and to find and save Tamriel's only hope: the last Septim. An Oblivion novelisation.





	1. Oblivion Dawns

I should have known that something was wrong when we reached the drawing room where I was meeting Ebel that day. The door was ajar, and it was darker than it should have been within.

Ebel was always very particular about the lighting in a room. He usually insisted that all windows were opened, and all candles were lit, to cast as much light as possible on whatever he was reading.

I hesitated as I reached toward the partially opened door, but turned swiftly back to Caroline, my bodyguard, when she grabbed my wrist.

Her eyes were narrowed, and she shook her head, drawing her blade without a hint of a rasp from its scabbard. Her lithe arm muscles flexed under her Blades armour as she held her katana in one hand, and moved me behind her and away from the door with the other.

I stood behind her, a lump of worry forming in my throat. I wished I had a katana in my hands like Caroline's, then dismissed the thought; I couldn't wield a sword. I'd likely cut myself if I tried.

If only I had my bow with me.

Bows were ladylike, acceptable. Bows were used by members of the court, to hunt, and to play at target practise.

But I didn't have my bow with me. There was no need for me to carry a weapon in the Tower. The Tower was safe.

Wasn't it?

I held my breath without realising it as Caroline reached forward, inhaled and crouched, and with the hand not holding the katana, gave the door a little push. It shifted inward, silently along the smooth tiles.

I ducked as well, but not so far that I couldn't see into the room over my protector's head. The curtains were drawn, and there was an orange glow coming from within the room, so some of the candles must have been lit.

Caroline moved her head minutely from side to side, scanning the room. I tapped her shoulder, then pointed over it, indicating the figure sitting in front of the unlit fireplace, almost hidden from view as the chair's back was facing us.

My bodyguard nodded and inched forward. I didn't know what to do. Was I supposed to follow her? And - what was going on? Why was Ebel sitting in a dark room, by himself, when we were supposed to be meeting here now, to spend the afternoon together and make small talk?

I stood up straight as I watched Caroline move into the room, but remained where I was, just inside the doorway. Now that I knew where he was, I could make out the top of his head – my betrothed, Ebel Septim - the shock of his thick brown hair made bloody in the dim orange light.

That's when I saw the other. There was another figure, in front of Ebel, cloaked in darkness. He was crouched down, so I could only see the top of a shadowed hood moving. I clapped my hand to my mouth, to muffle a scream I didn't know I was going to make.

I wasn't fast enough, and everything happened at once. The hooded man stood tall; a long dagger in his hand, which was dripping with something dark. The gaping blackness in the hood where I assumed there was a face fixed on me and I was frozen to the spot.

Caroline charged at the figure from the side, plunging her katana into his neck, and he dropped to his knees, gurgling. The dagger he'd been holding fell from his grip and clattered loudly on the tiled stone floor.

I hurried forward automatically, eager to be closer to Caroline, and to find out what was going on.

"No, Sarina! Stay back!" Caroline called, holding up a hand and taking her eyes off her kill only for a moment to caution me, before she cried out in anger and swung the blade in front of her, slicing the robed man's head from his shoulders.

I startled but my feet kept moving forward, and then I could see Ebel's two bodyguards, piled in the corner of the room; a mass of dark, glistening wetness trailing down them and catching the candlelight.

Caroline was crouching over the intruder she had just beheaded when I passed her, and she was searching through their robes. I let her be and dropped to my knees in front of Ebel.

This had to be a nightmare. He could not be dead. I felt wetness on my knees and knew that it had to be his blood, seeping into my dress. I ignored the feeling, reaching shakily for his hands, my eyes fixed on his soft features. There was a blade in his chest, pinning him to the seat, and his blood was everywhere, seeming to shudder on its own as the weak light of the candle flames flickered around us. His eyes were horrifyingly open; his jaw slackened, and on his forehead, someone had drawn in blood the symbol of a sun.

"Ebel, no," I moaned, resting my forehead in his lap. My throat felt tight enough to stop me from breathing, and I let go of a soft, gasping sob as tears sprung to my eyes.

I had not loved Ebel. I had tried – for years now – to locate that spark, that desire for another that the stories wrote of, and I was resolved to gain feelings for him before our wedding day, which was to take place on my eighteenth birthday in about two weeks hence. The man was over ten years my senior, and I respected and honoured him, even if he treated me like a child.

No, I had never loved him. But I didn't want him to _die_.

I was dragged to my feet by Caroline, who started urging us back toward the hallway.

"I have to get you out of here."

"But the others," I tried through a sob, but she cut me off immediately.

"The Tower has been compromised," she hurried us down the hallway and then stopped, in front of a life-sized painting of Ebel's father, Emperor Uriel Septim VII. I had always loved the painting, because Uriel was so young, but his bright blue eyes were exactly as they'd always been – full of knowledge and wisdom and power. Eyes that had always made me – everybody – feel safe.

I stared at those eyes for a moment, through a haze of shock, as Caroline reached forward and touched the blood-red Amulet of Kings that was painted proudly on the Emperor's figure. The painting slid to one side, with a whisper of wood against stone, and a tunnel leading into darkness revealed itself.

As I wondered if the tunnel had been there all this time, Caroline grabbed my hand and pulled us into the darkness, hitting a button with her closed fist once we were both inside. I heard, rather than saw, the painting move back into place, as Caroline seemed to hum for a moment, and then cast a small ball of light in her hand. It hovered in place there; a Candlelight spell. Her pace quickened and I had to run to keep my arm from being pulled off, my free hand bundling my skirts up so I could move fast enough without tripping over them.

We raced along the passage in silence, with Caroline's spell casting just enough light for us to see where we were placing our feet. I could barely keep my breath as we ran and turned, and I felt as though I was running through a haze, like none of this was real. I wanted to ask Caroline where we were going, then asked myself if it mattered. We'd reach wherever we were going soon enough.

 _If the Tower is compromised_ , I wondered, _where in the Imperial City will be safe?_

Caroline halted suddenly, and I slammed into her back with an "Oof!"

She turned and steadied me so I wouldn't fall, but then turned away quickly, holding her Candlelight high, and looking for something in what was at first glance, a dead end.

I panted heavily, trying to catch my breath, watching my bodyguard's every move. The bluish glow of her Candlelight spell made her look pale and ethereal and for a single, panicked moment, I wondered if we were both dead upstairs in the drawing room, and running through the tunnels of nowhere as ghosts.

She must have found what she was looking for because the wall in front of us shuddered, then shifted aside, just as the painting had done before. Caroline leapt through, then reached her hand back to me. I grabbed it, and held my skirts up with my other hand as I descended a couple of steps, into what was unmistakably a cupboard. My bodyguard closed the wall behind us with another bash of her fist on a button inside the cupboard, and then opened the doors, dispelling her spell as she lead us out.

We were in the city prisons. My mouth went dry as I looked down a hallway of barred cell room doors. Caroline didn't explain, leading me wordlessly to one of the prison cells.

Her mouth formed a line as she looked into the empty cell before us.

"What...?" I began, but Caroline's hand shot forward and covered my mouth.

"Shh!" she hissed, fiddling with the front of her Blades armour, loosening the neckline and then pulling a long chain out from under it. At the end was a key.

I was so afraid that I stayed silent, and watched, as my eyes grew accustomed to the gloom of the cells. Caroline unlocked the ancient-looking padlock on the cell door and ushered me inside.

I backed against one of the side walls of the cell, watching Caroline closely as she followed me in. I didn't understand any of this and I didn't know what I'd do if she planned on just leaving me here. Probably cry.

Once we were both inside, Caroline motioned for me to join her as she hurried to the back wall of the room. I breathed a sigh of relief, realising that there must have been another tunnel in this room.

 _Funny place for an escape route_ , I thought. Though, who would think to look in a prison?

She reached underneath the uncomfortable-looking straw and fur bed along the back wall, and extracted a sack.

"What are we doing, Caroline?" I asked in a whisper.

"Please, my Lady," she remembered my title, but spoke in a hush as she hurriedly undid the ties on the sack and opened it wide. "There is no time to explain. You must get out of those clothes."

She handed me a rough-spun tunic and scratchy-looking leggings. I stared down at them in my hands.

"Wh-?"

"Please don't ask me why," Caroline retied the sack, and thrust it under the bed again. "I have sworn to protect you, and in order to do so, you must trust me."

"I'm to become a prisoner?" I asked her, still not moving to change. I trusted Caroline, but this was absurd! "How will that save us?"

Caroline's eyes flashed and she looked frustrated, as she hurried back toward the cell door and peered out. After a beat, she hurried back to me.

"Turn," she commanded, turning me before I could react, and I felt her start to unfasten the ties at the back of my dress.

"Caroline!" I hissed, confused.

The Blade sighed. "My Lady, the Tower is compromised," she whispered, but I could tell her jaw was clenched. "If the Septim family is the target, what do you think they will do if they find you?"

"I am not a Septim," I grated back in a hushed whisper. "Not yet. Not ever, now," I added morosely.

Caroline had finished with my dress ties, and dragged the silken material from my shoulders, exposing my back to her. I shivered in my smalls; the stalls were icy and I hadn't realised how much warmth there had been in my apparently lightly spun dress.

"Do you think they will care?" she hissed, as she reached around me for the tunic I was holding and took it back from me. "You have been part of the Septim household since you were ten! Everybody knows who you are! Arms up!"

I did as she commanded automatically, wondering why anyone would want me dead – but then, Ebel hadn't done anything wrong, and he had been killed...

My eyes welled up dangerously as the image of Ebel's glazed eyes swam in my vision. The bloody sun on his forehead blazed at me like a third, hateful, glowing eye.

"It doesn't matter that you were not wed yet," Caroline continued grimly, pulling the tunic over my head, and I shoved my arms through the arm holes. The tunic was shapeless, sleeveless and reached mid-thigh, made of a scratchy-feeling linen.

"Many who do not know you both assume – wrongly assume – that he did not wait, to consummate your union," she finished, somewhat angrily.

I turned back around to my bodyguard in shock, and felt the blood drain from my face. I held my chilled arms, watching through a blur of tears as she picked up my formerly fine, pale blue dress, which was soaked in places with the deep red of Ebel's blood.

Ebel had never touched me...how could anyone think such a thing?

"I trust you can manage the leggings," Caroline raced back to the cell door.

She was leaving me?

I paled. _She was leaving me!_ I hurried to the cell door, grabbing the bars as she closed it on me, locking the padlock from the other side.

"Caroline!" I cried desperately, in a hushed voice. "Don't leave me here!"

My bodyguard's eyes softened, for just a moment. "Wait here. I will be back, I promise you. I must..." she trailed off, her eyes roving the hallway, then turned back to me very quickly. "Put the leggings on. Hide your shoes," she hissed. "If you are approached by anyone other than a Blade that you recognise, you must assume they are the enemy."

She withdrew something from a strap on her boot, and passed it to me. A silver dagger.

"I can't use this," I whispered, taking the blade with a shaking hand, my voice begging her to stay.

"I hope you don't have to fight anyone," Caroline shook her head. "But you must use it to cut your hair. They will have your description. Your hair will be part of that."

I nodded sadly at her, the tears slipping from my eyes. I was usually very protective of my hair, but I didn't feel like it mattered any more. I had been forbidden to cut it, on my mother's orders, and it was a mass of knee-length dark brown. It was currently plaited into several long, intertwining braids that trailed down my back, thicker than a man's arm and wound with white and yellow flowers. Not exactly in keeping with the prisoner guise.

Caroline nodded at me once, seemingly more satisfied, then started to run back down the hallway.

"I will return."

I stayed at the cell door, one hand gripping a bar and the other, the silver dagger, at its hilt. I wanted to call out thank you, or stay safe, to my bodyguard, but I couldn't find my voice.

I backed away from the bars, and retreated to the bed, sitting and staring at my hands. The silver dagger caught the only light coming into the room, from a small window, high up on the wall.

There was blood on my hands. Ebel's blood. I put the dagger down and rubbed my hands against the prisoner tunic I was wearing roughly, desperate for the blood to be gone. I looked at my hands again; a few dried stains remained. I felt an anger rising in me at the sight of my small, pale hands, and tried to use the anger to stop the tears that were still leaking down my face.

 _You stop this, Sarina_ , I chided myself. _Stop being such a baby. People are dead. People are fighting and dying, and you're sitting here, alive and hidden, crying and useless._

The voice in my head carried my mother's tone, and I narrowed my eyes for conjuring her at a time like this. I had never been close to my mother, and I had never even known my father, for he'd died serving the Empire while I was still inside my mother's womb. My mother had always been strict, but she had become a hundred times worse with her rules and regulations, once Crown Prince Geldall, Ebel's oldest brother, had started talking to her about my becoming betrothed to Ebel. She had shipped me off to the Imperial City as soon as I was ten, to be raised by the Emperor's tutors and bodyguards, who would turn me into a lady fit for the Septim household. I had seen her once a year, every year on my birthday, and she had always been cold, calculating and snotty.

And then she had died, about a year ago, and I had inherited everything; the money, the house and lands in Skingrad; everything that had made me such a suitable match for the son of an Emperor.

I sniffed, wiping my eyes roughly with a hand as I picked up the silver dagger with the other. I grabbed my braid and used a sawing motion against it with the blade, knowing that it was uneven, as I cut it below my shoulders. The hair unwound and I crouched down and stowed the long plait under the bed, shoving the sack of prisoner clothing in front of it. Short curls sprang around my face as I moved. Spurred on by the recklessness of cutting my hair and knowing how much it would have angered my mother, I kicked off my slippers, and put on the leggings Caroline had given me. They were tight-fitting, and hugged my hips and my ankles, but I felt slightly warmer for them.

As I was wondering what to do with the silver dagger, I heard a noise from the other side of the cell, and hurriedly looked at the door as fear leapt into my throat.

"Psst!"

Someone was calling me - had noticed Caroline leaving me here?

_If you are approached by anyone other than a Blade that you recognise, you must assume they are the enemy._

I nodded at the reminder of Caroline's words, but edged toward the cell door, the silver dagger behind my back, as I tried to swallow my fear and reminded myself that I was locked in, and that assassins wouldn't 'psst' at me. Perhaps it was another member of the Blades, or one of the Princes, trying to find their way to the right cell to escape through.

The hard, rocky dirt floor of the cell felt cool and sharp against my bare feet but my head and neck felt significantly lighter, with the weight of all that hair gone.

"Pssst!" the noise came again. I peered through the bars, grabbing one with my free hand, and looked both ways down the hallway.

Nobody was there.

"Would you look at that," a leering male voice spoke, in a hiss of a whisper.

I startled and realised that the voice was coming from another prisoner. Across the hallway and down one cell, I could see a man – Dunmer, perhaps, though it was difficult to tell in the wan light. I stepped back from the cell door, but the prisoner must have seen enough. I felt a flush creep up my cheeks.

"A little Imperial girl in an Imperial cell," he sneered a chuckle. "They sure don't discriminate, do they, pet?"

I stayed silent, but watched him from the shadows, too afraid to move. If I moved, he'd know I was still right there.

"I bet the guards give _you_ some special treatment, before the end," he jeered. "The guards always treat the pretty ones _real_ nice."

I had to take another step back. Why was he saying such things?

"Oh, don't go, little pet," he crooned, the jeer still in his tone. "There is nowhere to go," he barked a laugh, growing louder and more manic as he continued. "You're going to die in here, just like the rest of us! Die!"

I was gripping the silver dagger in my hand so tight that my fingers hurt. I continued to take slow, measured steps back away from the cell door; tried to block the prisoner's insanity from my mind.

Why was I so afraid of him, I wondered? There was no way he could get to me, even if he could somehow get out of his own cell. Caroline had the key to my cell, and she had promised she would come back to me. Everyone else was –

I was far back in the cell, near the bed, when a great, looming shadow stepped into the light of the hallway, and began fiddling with the lock of my cell door.

I clamped my hand over my mouth again and muffled my scream - in time, this time. That wasn't Caroline! What was I going to do?

My scream swallowed, I placed my palms and back against the wall and stood, motionless, a part of me insisting that if I didn't move, he couldn't see me.

When the cell door open, the figure hurried into the room, and three other figures hurried in after him.

"This way," the voice – male – called.

I recognised the armour instantly, as soon as I saw it. He was a Blade.

"Thank the Gods," I whispered as I let out a breath and raced forward.

In a flash, three katana blades were at my throat.

I screamed and held up my hands, the silver dagger falling to the floor and clattering a few times against the rocky surface.

"Why is there a prisoner in this cell?" one of the Blades, the female of the group, asked angrily. I knew this Blade; she was the Captain, the woman in charge of the Emperor's safety. Captain Renault, her name came to me swiftly.

"Stand aside, Captain," a regal voice spoke from behind the three Blades, and then the Emperor himself put his hand on the Captain's outstretched arm, insisting that she lower it.

She did, as did the other two Blades.

"There has been no mistake," the Emperor added.

"The guards are under strict order to leave this cell empty," one of the male Blades, a very large, but young, Imperial said.

I was frozen to the spot. I wanted to speak in my defence but I was also suddenly terrified that nobody recognised me. That Caroline's idea of masking my identity was working too well. That if I moved, at all, they wouldn't hesitate in chopping my head off, then and there, just like Caroline had to Ebel's assassin.

But then there was the Emperor, reaching his hand out to me. "You must sheath your weapons," he said with confidence, and I took his hand with my own quaking one. "You all know this young woman."

"Thank you, Your majesty," I breathed a sigh of relief. He _did_ recognise me. Of course he did. Septims always saw to the truth of matters. It was part of their Gift.

He let go of my hand once I was steady on my feet once more, and the third Blade, a Redguard, asked questioningly. "Lady Passero?"

"Yes," I nodded, as I stooped down to retrieve the silver dagger Caroline had given me.

"But, Caroline...?" the young Imperial Blade muttered.

I nodded again, turning to face him. "She went to see if she could help. She promised to return."

"There isn't any time for this," Captain Renault said, though there was less of an edge to her voice now. "Baurus, hurry up. And Sire, if you please, you must change," she hurried to the bed and crouched down, just as Caroline had done, and retrieved the sack of prisoner clothing.

"Yes, Captain," the Redguard Blade – Baurus – turned back to one of the walls, searching for something, much like Caroline had during our race through the tunnels out of the Tower earlier.

"My sons," the Emperor said, beside me, and I turned to look at him. He was watching Baurus. Those great, blue eyes, usually brimming with confidence and intelligence, were at that moment so full of sadness. "None of them are here."

I felt the tears welling in my eyes again at the sombre, somewhat hopeless sound of his low voice, and shook the tears away, wiping my palm across my eyes swiftly. "No, Sire."

Emperor Uriel turned his gaze to me, then. "Do you know if Ebel-?"

I shook my head, as the tears threatened to spill again. "I'm sorry, Sire. We – Caroline and I, I mean – we found him."

The Emperor drew in a sharp breath. "You were with him?"

I shook my head again, this time letting the tears fall, and told him through a sob. "Caroline killed the assassin," I said. "But we were too late," I clenched my eyes shut as I lowered my head. Despite all else, I didn't want the Emperor to see my crying. Would he wish the assassin had taken me, so his son might have lived?

I felt a hand on my chin, and opened my eyes; the Emperor looked straight at me. "I have known that this day would come," he said, and through the sadness, there it was; the command, "though I did not realise it would be now, or that I would lose my sons, as well."

I sniffed and said nothing, and he continued. "When I saw you were here, I knew it must be time."

"Time?" I echoed in a small voice. Before he could explain, Captain Renault was at the Emperor's side, and handed him a long, grey prisoner tunic.

At the same moment, Baurus must have found the lever, because the wall he was at started moving sideways.

"Sire," Captain Renault said. "Please, hurry. Put this over your clothing. We must go, now."

"Lady Sarina is escaping with us," Uriel spoke up as he shrugged the prisoner tunic on. It didn't entirely cover his robes, but I guessed that there wasn't enough time for him to change properly. It would have to do.

"Yes, Sire," the Captain acknowledged him, but not me. She stepped through the tunnel, holding her hand out for the Emperor, and he took it as he climbed through. The young Imperial Blade followed him, and the third Blade, Baurus, held out his hand to me.

"But," I said hesitantly, looking at the cell door. "What about Caroline?"

Baurus stepped back into the cell and took my hand, dragging me through. "She knows where to meet us, if she makes it out of the Tower alive."

_Caroline, where are you?_

I took his hand. Once we were inside the tunnel, Baurus sealed it off, hitting a lever on an inside wall. Once it was closed, he pushed an enormous rock that was to the side to cover the escape route entirely. I felt dumb, standing there uselessly, and turned, to see the other two Blades and the Emperor, hurrying down a set of stairs. The Captain, in the lead, had produced a ball of light on her palm, just like Caroline had done while we were escaping.

Baurus grabbed my hand as he raced past me, and I ignored the stabbing pain of the rough stone on my bare feet and hurried to keep up.

The tunnel was hewn out of solid rock, and lead to what looked like an older part of the Imperial City – perhaps the sewers, though the water rushing through it must have kept any refuse from stinking up the place. It was a little lighter here – light enough for Captain Renault to extinguish her Candlelight - but the Blades didn't slow our escape. As we ran, I wondered how many times they'd used these tunnels, if they knew their way so well? Perhaps smuggling people out of the Imperial City wasn't such an uncommon thing?

Baurus' grip was unfaltering, his large hand wrapped securely around my wrist as he pulled me here and there. My feet slipped once, and he turned with a speed I'd not have thought the large man capable of, catching my other arm and steadying me.

"You must take care, my Lady," he said, no edge to his voice, only urgency. "They cannot follow us the way we came, but there is more than one entry point to the tunnels."

He started running again, and I leaped after him, my feet splashing in a pool of water before hitting the smooth, weathered rock of the path.

"It will not take them long to realise where we have gone," he added in a mutter.

I concentrated on keeping my footing, instead of answering. Baurus came to a halt once we reached the next room, and I stopped just in time, managing to not run into him. In front of us, the other two Blades and the Emperor were standing in front of a large, barred door. The Imperial Blade was shoulder-charging the door, trying to force it open.

"I don't understand," the Captain was saying. "This gate has never been locked!"

"Well, someone locked it. The mechanism is on the other side!" the other Blade was saying, through clenched teeth.

I looked around the room, as the "clang!" of the Blade's armour against the bars of the door rang out through the chamber. It was a tall section of tunnel, with stairs leading back behind us, and moss hanging down the walls. In the corner of one wall was a small hole, where the rock had fallen away from it.

I tugged on his arm. "Baurus?"

The Blade had been about to join his fellow in trying to take down the door with brute strength, but turned back to me swiftly; his eyes fierce.

I pointed to the small hole in the wall. "If you could lift me up there, I could fit through. Unlock the door from the other side?"

Baurus looked at where I had indicated, and his eyes widened when he turned back to me. "Come on!"

We ran to the wall and Baurus cupped his hands in front of him. I placed my hands on his shoulders, and my foot in his hands, and he lifted me with little effort. I grabbed for the hole in the wall and tried to lever myself up, then felt hands on my legs, pushing me upwards.

I didn't need to pull myself through the hole at all – Baurus practically launched me through it. I gripped onto the stone wall on the other side, and climbed down in a leap, landing with a wince. I was sure my feet were bleeding by now – and I wished I'd grabbed my shoes before we'd left the cell, but Caroline had insisted I hide them in case I was found. They were too fancy; too fine – delicate slippers with barely a sole to them. They probably wouldn't have done me any good, come to think of it.

I raced for the locking mechanism that was beside the door, as the Blades and the Emperor all stood back from it, their eyes on me. I happened to glance at them as I dashed past the barred doorway - and stopped in my tracks.

I screamed - but not quickly enough.

Cloaked figures launched themselves from the top level of the chamber that the Blades, and the Emperor, were trapped in. They took the young Imperial, whose name I had never known, down in a single strike. The Captain and Baurus both turned, immediately backing to form a defence around the Emperor.

"Open the door!" the Captain screamed at me.

I scrambled for the latch.

"No!" the Emperor's voice boomed, and I hesitated at the force behind it. "Do not open that door!" he commanded.

"Sire!" the Captain called, screaming as she took down one of the – it must have been ten or so – cloaked assassins. They were ridiculously outnumbered.

"Open that door and we all die here," the Emperor called to me, his back pressed up against the bars, as he watched his two remaining bodyguards take down assassin after assassin.

"Sire, if I don't, you'll die!" I cried.

With a sickening crunch, the Captain's head was smashed by one of the assassins, who was wielding a mace, and she fell.

"No!"

I raced toward the barred door, as the previously mace-wielding assassin leaped upon the Emperor, and drove a long blade into his belly. The blade went straight through the Emperor's body, the tip of it protruding through the bars and into the room I was in.

I screamed again as the Emperor's body slid down the bars, and for a moment, I saw the assassin standing over him, victorious, before his head was taken off by Baurus' blade. The Redguard swung around again, immediately, back into action on the last assassin, who was trying to flee the room.

I sank to my knees by the barred door, reaching through and grabbing the Emperor's hand, as he tried to turn toward me.

"No," I gripped his hand, and felt those useless tears falling from my eyes again, as I watched the Emperor gasp, the light in his eyes flickering brightly.

"I knew," he panted, his eyes finding mine as he brought his other hand up to clasp mine. "As soon as I saw you, Sarina, I knew."

"I'm sorry," I cried. I didn't know what he was talking about, but it felt like it was my fault.

His words were kind. "You have nothing to be sorry for," it looked like every breath took great effort. "It was destined that you be with me in my final moments," he continued. "And that thought brought me a small comfort," he removed one of his hands from mine, and reached around his neck.

"Sire, please," I sobbed, leaning my forehead on the bars, as the tears trickled down my cheeks and splashed on his shoulder. "Hold on. Baurus will be back soon. He'll know what to do."

He placed something on our clasped hands, and I opened my eyes. I let out a gasp in between my sobs as he put the object between my fingers and then patted my hands deftly.

The Amulet of Kings. He'd removed the Amulet, with it's great blood-red stone of Alessia shining in the muted light of the tunnels, and had put it in my hand.

Before I could speak, he did.

"Sarina," he said, though his voice was very quiet, and very ragged, now. "The future of the Septims is in your hands. Only you can save us. This I knew to be true, a long time ago. Now, listen carefully..."

I listened, while he took a long, shuddering breath.

"You must go to Jauffre, at Weynon," he rasped. "There is..."

His eyes began to flicker closed, and I squeezed his hand with both of mine, and the Amulet between us. "Yes, Sire? I must go to Weynon? And then what?"

Uriel Septim's eyes fluttered open again, the blueness in them still bright, despite the light fading from them at each moment. "Jauffre will help you find him."

"Who, Sire?"

"My son," he breathed, quietly. "Find him. Save him. Give him the Amulet."

He spoke so quietly that I was not certain I had heard him correctly. "Your son? You mean...you have another son?"

The Emperor nodded, his hand gripping my two and the Amulet with what strength he had left. "And I am sorry, but you must close them now, my child," he coughed weakly. "You must close the jaws of Oblivion."

"Oblivion?" I repeated dumbly.

He didn't answer me, or acknowledge my question, and I doubled my grip on his hand as I felt it slipping.

"Sire? Sire!" I called, as the Emperor went limp. I tried to press myself through the bars, to hold him up, but the Emperor's body slid a little further down, and his hands fell out of my reach.

I leaped up, raced to the locking mechanism and hit it, hearing a clang of metallic hinges letting go as I raced back to the opening gate. The Emperor slid further as the door opened, and was lying flat on the ground by the time I reached him, the horrible assassin's blade still protruding from his belly.

It was at that moment Baurus rejoined us, covered in blood, slowing to a stop as he saw us.

I ignored him, kneeling beside the Emperor now, grasping the sword in both of my hands and withdrawing it from him, throwing it aside in anger and it clanged against the stone of the tunnels as I cried. "Sire! You...you can't!"

Baurus was behind me then, and dragged me to my feet. "I wasn't fast enough. The Emperor has fallen."

I turned into Baurus and buried my face in his armour, the tears flowing freely again. I'd had no idea I could cry so much and a part of me wondered that I hadn't dried out completely yet.

Baurus let me cry against him only for a moment, offering no words of comfort, but just laying an arm around my shoulder. I was grateful for that because I felt like I would collapse.

"I see he has given you the Amulet," he said finally, his voice sounding deeper, thicker, and I knew he was trying to stop himself from crying, as well.

I withdrew from him, looking down at the Amulet clasped in one of my hands. I had forgotten about it.

"Yes."

Baurus nodded, then stepped past me, bowing down on one knee beside the Emperor, the respect evident in every move he made. "What did he say to you?"

I watched as he straightened the Emperor's body, and leaned forward to close his eyes gently.

"He...he told me to go to," I hesitated, trying to remember it through the haze. "Weynon. Someone called Jauffre."

I heard Baurus suck in a breath at the name, but he didn't take his eyes off his fallen Emperor. "What can Jauffre do about this?"

I paused. "You know him?"

I saw Baurus nod. "He was the Grandmaster of the Blades. He's retired."

"He..." I restarted. "The Emperor said Jauffre...could help me find his...his son," I said quietly.

Baurus did turn back to me this time, his eyes sharp. "His what?"

I shook my head. "I don't know," my voice wavered. "He said he had another son. That he..."

Baurus rose to his full height, quickly, and towered over me. "Are you telling me that there is another Septim?" he seemed hopeful, not furious, as I had first thought he was. "And that Jauffre knows where he is?"

I nodded slightly, before I managed a squeak. "The Emperor seemed to think so," I answered.

Baurus snapped into action, rushing to one side of the room and crouching down for a moment, before returning to me.

He held out a pair of boots. "They were Captain Renault's. They will do for you. Quickly."

He pushed them into my arms when I didn't take them immediately. "Do I have to dress you?"

I flushed at the thought and slipped my aching feet into the boots hurriedly. They were probably two sizes too big for me, but they were better than the cold, hard ground.

"Now," he indicated the door. "What are you waiting for? Go!"

I looked at the barred door I'd just come through. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Exactly as the Emperor asked you," he answered quickly. "Go to Jauffre, quick as you can. And keep that Amulet safe!"

I looked up into Baurus' warm, brown eyes, imploringly. "Can't you come with me?"

Baurus looked somewhere between frustrated and amused. "I have to stay here, and guard the Emperor's body, until my company find me," he started pushing me toward the door.

"But I'm..." I started, exasperatedly, struggling out of his grip and turning back to him, "I'm useless! I can't fight!"

Baurus let me go. "Then it's a good thing the Emperor didn't ask you to fight for him!"

I opened my mouth to shout back at Baurus, but no words came as I realised that the Blade was right. The Emperor had given me a simple task; find a man called Jauffre.

I could do that. 

"How do I get to Weynon?" I asked Baurus.


	2. Weynon Priory

Weynon, Baurus told me, was a priory that worshipped Talos and the Nine Divines, and Jauffre was serving as a priest who resided there. After following the tunnel, he told me I would find myself outside of the eastern walls of the Imperial City. From there I was to either swim, or take the road north then west, and follow the signs to Chorrol. Weynon Priory was near the gates.

As I breathed in the early morning air and looked out from the tunnel exit, I took a moment to wonder that the sky was so beautiful, so radiant in the pre-dawn; all deep blues and glorious pinks and oranges, with a sprinkling of brighter stars still twinkling high above like diamonds. With the Emperor, and his sons – including my future husband – all dead, it felt as though the skies should have echoed what would soon be the whole of Tamriel's grief.

 _Perhaps nothing in all of Mundus knows of their deaths yet_ , a small, child-like voice whispered through my mind. I shook my head at myself.

 _Or perhaps their is hope still, in this other son, so that is what the sky celebrates_ , the same, hushed voice continued.

An illegitimate son, I mused, as I put the Amulet of Kings around my neck, tugged off Captain Renault's boots, lowered myself into the water, and started swimming north. I decided that once I reached the northern wall of the city, I would go out onto the road. The water was incredibly cold, and I kept myself moving through it swiftly, so that I wouldn't cramp, as my thoughts instinctively chewed over what the Emperor had revealed.

The Emperor had certainly known how to keep an extra, unwanted son hidden. There had only ever been one rumour I had heard of an illegitimate son, and that he had turned into some corrupted mage, who had been executed for treason, a long time before I was born.

When I reached the banks of the lake on the north side of the city, I shivered as my prisoner clothes clung to my skin and I realised quickly that if anyone saw me, they would assume I was an escaped prisoner and alert the Legion. I dove back into the water, and decided to swim a little further, until I could find something less conspicuous to change into.

Somewhere came into view soon enough – a small farm house near the banks, with no signs of life around it. Perhaps it was too early for the owners to be up, yet. While the skies shifted and changed colour while I swam, and dawn was imminent, the sun had yet to rise.

I crept out of the water, and dashed to the back of the house, retrieving a large linen dress from the washing line. Terrified that I would be caught, I ran again, toward some bundled bales of hay to change behind.

As quickly as I could, I peeled off the soaking prisoner tunic and leggings, and thrust the dress over my head. The Amulet rested cooly between my breasts and was hidden completely by the dress, which was long, sleeveless, and had a slit at the front that was big enough to get my head through. The dress hung limply on me, several sizes too big around the bust and the hips. Whoever this dress belonged to, she was much more well endowed than I. I tightened the ties at the back as best I could without being able to see what I was doing, and then slipped Captain Renault's boots back on, finding a small sheath on the outside of one of them, that fit the silver dagger Caroline had given me.

That's right, I remembered. Caroline had given me the blade from her boot – it must have been a standard issue Blades equipment.

What had become of Caroline, I wondered suddenly? Had she survived the Tower? Would I ever see her again?

I sheathed the dagger and gathered the prisoner clothing, rushing back to the water's edge and setting them adrift, telling myself that there was not a force in all of Cyrodiil that could stop my bodyguard. Angling away from the house I had stolen the dress from, I hurried along the road, stopping at a junction just long enough to make sure I was following the signs to Chorrol, as Baurus had instructed me.

As I walked, and the sun finally rose, I tried to bind my hair out of my face, but it was too short now to do anything with on it's own. It hung limply in dark, wet curls that stuck to my cheeks and dripped freezing cold water down my back. It dried out, as the day grew warmer, and puffed up a little, into a dark brown cloud of curls that dangled jaggedly along my shoulder blades.

It felt odd. I hadn't known my hair was this curly. I was so used to feeling the heavy weight at the back of my neck, that I felt lighter. I would miss all of the styles I used to be able to put it in, though -

I mentally slapped myself. Who cared about hair any more? I had to get to Weynon, and fulfil the Emperor's dying request. It was the least I could do for him.

I hoped that Tamriel wouldn't be as lost without him as I felt right then.

–

Weynon Priory was a self-contained, homey-looking little collection of houses, stables and temple. As I approached it, very late that night, footsore and hungry, one of the brothers spotted me along the path.

"By the Nine!" I heard the monk exclaim, before I spotted him, hurrying to me from behind a well in the middle of the courtyard, a bucket full of water sloshing at his side. "Do you know what time it is, child? What are you doing wandering the roads on your own?"

I bristled a little at the "child" comment, and stood tall, remembering my training, and my status. I forgot, for a moment, that my ratty hair, oversized stolen dress and large boots probably made me look like a wandering homeless woman.

"I have been instructed to seek out Jauffre, of Weynon Priory. Are you he?" I said steadily, despite feeling as though I was about to fall flat on my face.

The monk didn't look fazed. "Father Jauffre? No, child, I'm Prior Maborel, the head of our community. Father Jauffre is abed," he waved his hand at one of the buildings, and put the bucket of water down, extending his hands and taking mine in them, as he began to lead me to one of the houses. "Are you hungry? Tired? There is always hot food and a dry bed spare for Cyrodiil's needy."

Truthfully, I was starving, but Prior Maborel's presumption had irked me, and I was too tired and frustrated and anxious to complete the Emperor's request to make small talk.

"Prior Maborel," I extracted my hands slowly from his, and stopped. "Please, would you take me directly to Jauffre? I have orders from the Emperor himself to speak only to him."

Prior Maborel hesitated, and I didn't miss how he looked me up and down, swiftly, before his smile was back in place.

"Very well," he stuttered. "If you please, miss-"

"My name is Sarina. Lady Sarina Passero," I cut him off.

"Lady Sarina Passero...I see, very well," he muttered. I could tell he recognised the name, but that he didn't believe me.

"I'm not mad," I said quickly – too quickly – and tried to recover again. "Please, sir, I must see Jauffre, immediately."

The Prior paused, giving me that look up-and-down again, before saying, "Very well. This way...my Lady."

I felt wretched, and rude, as the tall older man lead me to the main chapel. The exhaustion and grief of the day overwhelmed me as Prior Maborel opened the door for me and gave me a stiff smile as he indicated that I should walk in first.

I stumbled over the threshold, and Prior Maborel caught me, barely. "You are unwell?"

I shook my head. "I am sorry," I said, as a pain in my chest swelled to bursting point, and I felt hot tears in my eyes again. I blinked them away, furiously, shaking my head again, and let out a sob.

"Brother Piner!" the Prior called.

I steadied myself against the Prior and tried to rise, my feet collapsing under me again, and I grabbed a hold of Prior Maborel's arms.

He steadied his grip. "I don't care if the Emperor really did send you or not, you need medical attention."

I shook my head, but only embarrassingly sobbed again when I tried to speak.

Another monk joined us in the entry, this one younger than Prior Maborel, and his eyes widened when he saw me. "By the Nine, Prior. Is she unwell?" he peered down at me as though I couldn't hear him.

I looked imploringly to the Prior, wishing I hadn't been so rude to him before.

"Take this girl to a spare bed in the chapel," he told the young Brother. "Then fix her some tea."

I wiped my eyes. "But, Jauffre-" I started.

"I shall rouse Jauffre, and bring him to you," Prior Maborel cut me off, "But, I should warn you, child, that he will not be happy about this."

I shook my head, knowing that once he heard my news, he wouldn't be happy, anyway. The news of the Emperor's death mustn't have reached anyone out here yet.

Prior Maborel handed me over to Brother Piner, who supported me as he shuffled us toward a room to the far rear of the building we'd entered. A row of three beds lined the wall, all empty, and a dresser was the only other furniture, with a ceramic bowl full of water on it.

Brother Piner helped me sit on the side of one of the beds. "There we are, dear. Now. Tea, was it?" he asked in the tone of one taking your order for dinner. He was young – much younger than I'd first thought he was. Perhaps my age. His eyes shone, but there was a sort of...happy dimness to him, a simple naivety.

"Yes, tea will do nicely," Brother Piner confirmed, and sauntered from the room. "Something with lemon in it, yes..." his voice trailed off.

I gripped the side of the bed as I felt myself waver again.

 _Not now!_ I chastised myself, shaking my head. _You are almost there!_

I eased out of the Blade Captain's boots, the throbbing heat from my aching feet making me wince as I rose and hobbled over to the basin of water, feeling blisters upon blisters as I walked.

At the Tower, I would have asked someone to run me a bath, and sat in the steaming water, letting it soak away any aches and pains - not that I'd ever felt anything quite like this burning exhaustion before in my life.

I dipped my hands into the water; a cool relief; then leaned over slightly, scrubbing my cheeks and eyes with water and pushing my hair out of the way as it fell around my face.

"She was extremely...insistent," I could hear Prior Maborel saying in a lowered voice from across the room, adjacent the one I was in. Then I could hear footsteps.

"This had better be important," I heard a new voice - older, deeper, more forceful.

The Prior and another man, this one in a dark brown monk's habit with a small amount of white hair surrounding his bald patch - presumably Jauffre - entered the room.

"Well? What is it?" he asked me angrily.

Despite the tone, I could see why and how the Blades could have followed this old man. His eyes were the colour of a storm, and his voice spoke of fierce loyalty and protection.

"Grandmaster Jauffre," I blinked as I wiped my hands on the front of my stolen dress, and then took an unsteady step toward him, wondering how I could possibly begin.

"The Emperor, he has fallen, -"

"What? Who are you?" Jauffre fired at once.

"- killed by assassins in the night. I was with him, at the end," I continued as though he'd not interrupted me.

"What is this nonsense?" Jauffee cried, turning back to Prior Maborel. The Prior had turned a deep shade of red.

"Please, listen to me," I decided there was only one way to convince him. I withdrew the Amulet of Kings from the neck of my dress, and lifted it off over my head, holding it out to him. "He bade I find you, in his dying breath. He gave me this."

Prior Maborel gasped when he saw what I was holding, and that was enough to make Jauffre turn back to me. He hurried to my side, inspecting the Amulet, running his fingers over it reverently, before shifting his gaze to me.

"The Emperor gave you this?" he asked, only a hint of the anger in his voice.

I nodded. "He said that...you knew where his son, the last Septim, was."

Jauffre took a step back from me.

"What does this have to do with _Martin_?" He sounded genuinely confused. Then, before I could answer. "Did you say the _last_ Septim, girl?"

Without waiting for my answer, he spun back to Prior Maborel.

"She knows too much, it is not as we thought. Summon a courier, I must write-"

"A courier, at this hour?" Prior Maborel asked, aghast.

"Yes, at this hour! If anyone knows anything about this girl and why she has the Amulet of Kings, it will be Captain Renault-"

"She's dead," I told him regretfully.

Jauffre turned back to me, his face paler than before. "How?"

I sniffed a bit, willing the edgy tears that were wavering on the edge of my vision to begone, again. I'd cried too much in the last day, or however long it had been since we'd discovered Ebel.

"She died defending the Emperor," I told him. "Of the Emperor's bodyguards, only Baurus survived."

Jauffre sucked in a breath but I continued.

"When I told Baurus what the Emperor...what he had asked of me, he...said I must come directly to you."

Jauffre took an unsteady step backwards, and held the doorframe.

"I'm...I'm sorry," I wiped my eyes.

Brother Piner's voice rang out and I gathered he was standing just out of view. "Does she still want her cup of tea?"

Prior Maborel's voice was soft, and kind, as he replied to fill the silence.

"Of course, thank you, Brother. Why don't you leave it with me, and get back to bed."

"All right."

Jauffre looked back up, straight into my eyes, after Brother Piner had gone. "Who are you?"

I took a step toward him, and dipped a bow. I had no idea if a former Grandmaster of the Blades outranked me, but given I was no longer going to be wife to the Emperor's son, I assumed yes. "My name is Sarina. Lady Sarina Passero. I am-"

"You're Ebel's young bride," he mused, recognising the name, his eyes flickering to my disheveled state. I realised he was assessing my hair, and knew at once that Caroline had been right to insist I cut it. Too many people seemed to identify me by it.

"I..." I stuttered, fingering the ends of my tattered curls idly. "Caroline, my bodyguard - she took me to the safe point in the prisoner cells, and told me to cut my hair, before she went back to fight. She said, if the assassins were looking for me, I would be too easily recognised by my hair."

"I see," Jauffre muttered, stepping back into the room.

"Wait a moment, Jauffre!" Prior Maborel spluttered. "She is really Ebel's wife? She's not mad?"

"I'm not his wife," I cut in hurriedly. "We were to be married in two weeks time. But the assassins have put a stop to that, now."

Jauffre's eyes widened. "It's not just the Emperor, is it?"

I shook my head sadly, wondering if I'd really forgotten to mention the Princes. "Geldall, Enman and Ebel didn't make it to the safe point. I...we found Ebel, but we can only assume they were all murdered as well."

Jauffre seemed to speed up, all at once. "Your request for Martin makes far more sense, now, as does your possession of the Amulet. We have no time to lose," Jauffre turned to Prior Maborel. "Please, revive her. The girl is nearly dead on her feet, and it will be a while yet before she can rest." He started to leave the room, staring at me, but issuing commands to Prior Maborel. "Bring her to my study, once she is revived. And quickly. All depends on what we do in the next few hours."

I paled. I had thought my task was done.

"Of course, Jauffre," Prior Maborel hastened into the room, and handed me the cup of tea Brother Piner had given him.

"Drink this, child, and...here, hold onto my arm a moment," he held out his arm warily, as though I was going to either faint again or bite him.

I drank the tea gratefully, and held onto Prior Maborel as I closed my eyes, and wanted to cry again as the hot, lemon-y liquid spilled down my sore throat, a hint of honey in the mixture soothing the aches. But it reminded me of Ebel, and that we had been meeting to take tea when Caroline and I had found him.

A tingling sensation overtook my senses, warm and comforting, and when I opened my eyes I was surrounded by the yellow glow of a powerful healing spell that the Prior was casting on me.

The aches in my feet - my hands - my eyes - even some of the ache in my chest and heart, melted away.

I thanked him gratefully, as the spell abated, and the Prior smiled a little. "There is some clothing in the dresser that may be a little warmer and more comfortable for you. Dress quickly; I shall wait outside for you, to take you to Jauffre."

I nodded and the Prior left the room.

With my muscles no longer heavy and sore, and my feet no longer ruined, I raced to the dresser and tugged open the drawer. There were monk's robes aplenty, a few pairs of socks, gloves, and caps. In the drawer underneath were several pairs of low, functional looking shoes.

I selected a few items and took them to the bed, discarding the stolen dress. The monk's robes were a warm brown colour, with full-length arms and a rope for a belt. They felt warm, and soft. I placed the Amulet of Kings back over my head and tucked it under the robe, then threw on a pair of socks and shoes, hurried out the door, and found Prior Maborel waiting for me with his arms crossed and his eyes lost in thought as he stared at the floor.

His head snapped to me when he spotted me as I stopped in front of him. "Ah, you're ready. Follow me."

 _Ready for what_ , I wondered, as I followed him up a flight of stairs.


	3. The Trials of Saint Alessia

Jauffre's study was on the top floor of the main temple, in what looked and felt like a grand sort of attic. The roof sloped upward, and the back wall consisted of a triangular stone arch, which held a stained-glass depiction of a serene-looking Talos, who looked as though He was watching down over Jauffre. A part of me wondered at the depiction; it had to be fairly unique, since Talos was usually shown in battle scenes.

The walls were lined with books on bookshelves. Jauffre's desk was in the middle of the room, facing the doorway, with a haphazardly-stacked pile of books and papers on one side, a quill, inkwell and fresh paper in the middle, and a tray with a steaming teapot, a plate of bread and several cups on the other side.

Jauffre was flipping through the pages of one of the books, over by a bookshelf when Prior Maborel and I entered the room, but when he saw us he hurriedly put it away, asking Prior Maborel to leave us a moment.

I could see the Prior wanted to stay, but he left anyway, and Jauffre indicated a seat by his desk, telling me to help myself to some food and drink.

The moment I was seated, with the smell of the bread boring a hole in my empty stomach, Jauffre approached and poured us both a cup of tea, then took his seat. Then the questions began.

He had me step through everything that had happened. The food, which I took bites of quickly while he questioned or mused over something I said, kept me largely distracted from what I was explaining; the horror of Ebel and his bodyguards' dead bodies; the escape to the prison cell with Caroline, the arrival of the Emperor and his bodyguards; the Emperor's assassination and then the conversation he'd had with me.

I teared at the point where he'd told me to close the gates of Oblivion, because that had been the last thing he said to me, before the light in him had faded and his hand had fallen from mine.

Jauffre's hand slamming on his desk brought me back to the now and stopped my tears, and I startled.

"I don't understand!" he thundered. "How did this happen? How did we let this happen?!"

I couldn't answer him, and lowered my eyes, taking a small bite of bread; I wasn't hungry any more, but it was a good distraction.

I swallowed. "Do you know what he meant?" I asked quietly. "About closing the gates to Oblivion?"

Jauffre nodded in an agitated manner, and stood. He paced back to the bookshelf he'd been at when I had arrived, and extracted a book from it.

"Are you familiar with _The Trials of Saint Alessia_?" he asked, sitting again, and opening the book, flicking through its pages quickly.

I shrugged. "A little. Though I haven't read it in a long time."

Jauffre found what he was looking for, and pointed to a passage, then read.

_"And Akatosh drew from his breast a burning handful of his Heart's blood, and he gave it into Alessia's hand, saying, 'This shall also be a token to you of our joined blood and pledged faith. So long as you and your descendants shall wear the Amulet of Kings, then shall this dragonfire burn - an eternal flame - as a sign to all men and gods of our faithfulness. So long as the dragonfires shall burn, to you, and to all generations, I swear that my Heart's blood shall hold fast the Gates of Oblivion."_

He looked at me once he'd finished, his face grim, his eyes dark and slightly narrowed.

The last crust of bread fell from my hand and landed on the floor; I felt ill.

"Do you understand its full meaning?" he asked me.

I nodded, blinking as I tried to stop from shaking. "Without a Septim wearing the Amulet of Kings, the dragonfires will extinguish."

"Yes," Jauffre confirmed. "And without the dragonfires, the realm of Mehrunes Dagon and his deadlands of Oblivion cannot be held at bay by Nirn for long.

"But who could have done this? Who would want to unite Nirn and Oblivion? And why?" he asked in a frustrated voice.

The solution was simple; the Emperor had sent me with the Amulet to solve this problem. "Where is the Emperor's last son?" I asked Jauffre quickly.

Jauffre closed _The Trials of Saint Alessia_ with a snap. "I suppose I am the only man left alive who knew of his heritage, with the Emperor murdered and his foster father passing away years ago," Jauffre sounded more bitter than sad at this.

"His name is Martin," he continued, "He serves Akatosh, in the Chapel in the city of Kvatch, south of here."

I nodded swiftly. "How long will it take to summon him from Kvatch?"

Jauffre shook his head. "We cannot summon him. The less people who know of his existence, and now importance, the better. If the people who killed the Emperor and his sons should find a courier or messenger, they will torture and kill them for this information."

I somewhat agreed with him; though I thought it very likely that a courier could be bought off. "We shall go to him, then," I rose, placing my empty tea cup back on the tray.

Jauffre remained seated, and shook his head again. "There is a high chance that the assassins know of my existence here, and my status amongst the Blades. If I move, they will find out about it, and it will put all of us in danger.

"I will help you in any way I can, but I must remain here, for there are many people to contact and assemble, and not much time to do it in.

" _You_ must go to Kvatch and extract Martin."

"But," I stammered, "the assassins are looking for me as well! I am as much use as you are to Martin's safety," I exclaimed.

"If the enemy is aware of his existence, he is in terrible danger, yes," Jauffre stood now, placing his hands on his desk and leaning forward a little. "But the enemy will not be expecting you. They certainly will not be looking out for you, not out here - not yet. Your haste in coming to me has bought us some very crucial, precious time. You, my Lady, may give us the time we need to retrieve Martin and get him safely back on the throne, and avert disaster."

I bowed my head, to hide the panic in my eyes. "Jauffre – please," I begged quietly. "Send a Blade, or one of the priests. A priest looking for another priest is not so strange a sight, is it?"

Jauffre walked toward me, stood in front of me. "Lady Passero," he said in a commanding voice, and I raised my eyes automatically at his tone. He looked so grim.

"Do you remember the Emperor's final words to you?"

I nodded, feeling my lower lip quivering, and bit it to stop it from quaking.

"He said that the future of his line lay in your hands. That you, and only you, could save it," he continued.

I stopped biting my bottom lip to ask, "How?"

"The Septims see into the heart, into the truth of matters," he put a consoling hand on my shoulder. "The Emperor must have seen something in you, something that you may not see, yet. Even if you don't trust yourself, you must put your trust him, as he did you."

I nodded, though I still didn't like it.

"You needn't fear, child," he added, lowering his hand now. "The task before you is simple. Kvatch is not far from here, and we will provide you with food, travel attire and a horse. You need to simply ride into Kvatch, find Martin, and bring him back to us."

I nodded again, swallowing. Yes, when he put it like that, the task _was_ simple.

Jauffre held out his hand to me. "I would ask you, however, that you leave the Amulet of Kings with me, where I will be able to keep it safe."

I hesitated as I drew the Amulet over my head. Wouldn't it be safer with me? Couldn't I just give it straight to Martin when I found him?

What if I didn't find him?

I had to find him.

"You will be travelling," Jauffre replied, unaware of my inner turmoil. "And while you will not be expected, should the enemy catch a glimpse of it on you, you will be as good as dead.

"No," he added. "You will travel safer without it."

"Oh," I placed the Amulet in his hand, understanding. "I see. But," I said hurriedly. "How am I to ensure that Martin believes me, without it? You didn't believe me, until I showed you that."

Jauffre turned from me, walking to a safe that was lodged in one of the bookshelves, unlocking it with a key from a chain around his neck. "You will find a way. Martin doesn't know know of his heritage, so the Amulet of Kings will do you no good there."

I paused. "He doesn't know who he is?"

I wished Jauffre had mentioned that sooner.

"No," Jauffre locked his safe, the precious Amulet safely inside, "and it was in everybody's interests that it remained that way. Until now," he walked back to me, holding out a pair of golden rings.

"Here, take these," he took one of my hands, and slid a ring onto the middle finger. I hurriedly took the other one from him, and slipped it on my other hand. "You can wear them underneath a pair of gloves, so they do not warrant any attention."

"What do they do?" I inspected them both.

"One provides resistance to disease, paralysis and poison," he indicated the ring on my left hand. "The other, fire, frost and shock resistance."

I paled a little. "Why do I need these?"

He started leading me toward the door. "I hope that you do not, my Lady. Now please, let us find you some travelling clothes and I will talk to Prior Maborel about his horse."

I let myself be lead out of Jauffre's study, my head spinning. Jauffre's task to find Martin sounded simple enough, but in giving me two protective, magical rings, I wondered if there would be something nasty looking out for me en route to Kvatch that he was failing to mention.

Brother Piner was sent to Chorrol immediately to acquire some travel clothes for me, and Prior Maborel had introduced me to his horse, a mare called Patch. I sat on an upturned log, looking at the small, docile-looking horse and wondered if it might be faster to walk to Kvatch. But then, remembering the state of my feet when I'd arrived at the Priory, I was suddenly a lot happier about the Prior loaning her to me. There was another man readying her; a Dunmer I hadn't met before, who'd been introduced as Eronor. He secured a saddle to Patch's back, then a bridle, then brushed the white-and-brown mare's fur down, then secured a satchel Jauffre had handed him to the back of the saddle.

While I watched Eronor prepare Patch, Prior Maborel snipped at my hair quickly with a small pair of scissors. I had tried telling him that there was no time for this and it didn't matter, but the Prior had said it would be an hour or so before Brother Piner returned with my clothes. Jauffre had added that the ratty, uneven mass of curls did look like they had been quickly cut that way to hide who I was.

Once the Prior had finished with my hair, Jauffre put a hand on my head, and I felt a hum of magic. For a short moment, I was engulfed in a warm glow.

"What was that?" I asked him.

Jauffre removed his hand. "Alteration spell," he answered. "Your hair is lighter, and your eyes are brown, temporarily."

"Oh," I looked around, hoping for a mirror, and stood to try see my reflection in a pane of glass in a window. "That's a really good idea," I wondered why Caroline hadn't thought of that, but perhaps she hadn't known the spell. "How long will it last?"

I stared at a face I knew but features I didn't in the reflection. My hair was even shorter than before, but it was even; the once dark-brown hair now dark-blonde, with curls framing my face and gathering against my neck and shoulders. My eyes, which had always been green, were now a warm, deep brown colour.

"It will last a day," he replied, coming to my side. "More than enough time for you to find Martin, and maybe even enough to return him to us. Now if you please," he motioned I follow him. "You should rest, for once Brother Piner returns you will need to make haste."

I nodded and followed him and the Prior back into the temple. I waited in Jauffre's office, reading through _The Trials of Saint Alessia_ while Jauffre wrote letter after letter, securing each with an official-looking wax seal which he retrieved from the safe.

I glanced up at his handiwork. "Won't anyone who finds these know...that you know?" I asked.

Jauffre nodded. "Perhaps. But the letter's contents are benign enough. I must rally the Blades, and quickly, for Martin will need all the protection we can give him, if he is to arrive safely in the Imperial City and relight the dragonfires," he gave me a small smile, then. "If the assassins find any of these, they will not know what to do. Only a true Blade will, and they will die rather than tell an enemy our secrets."

I shuddered, and returned to the book. Yes, I knew firsthand that a Blade would die trying to protect their Emperor.

Brother Piner returned shortly after, carrying a satchel full of clothes and a pair of leather boots. "Oh, I see you have a visitor, Father Jauffre," he started to back out of the room. "Has the lass departed already, then? I am sorry if I was too slow."

I stood, and Jauffre spoke wearily. "Brother Piner, wait."

The Brother turned back, "Yes, Father?"

"You can leave the clothing and boots here, and return to your daily prayers. Thank you," he added.

"As you like, Father," he offloaded his burdens, in the doorway, then gave me a quick bow, before wandering away.

Jauffre was pressing his thumb into the spot between his eyebrows, and I tried not to smile. Brother Piner was so sweet that of course they couldn't be frustrated with him.

I retrieved the satchel and boots, then turned back to Jauffre. "I'll change and come back to you here."

Jauffre shook his head, removing his hand from the bridge of his nose. "No, my Lady. Dress, and meet us outside, by the stables. You leave at once."

I hesitated, still not quite believing what was happening. "Yes, of course."

Returning to the room I'd first been lead to, I upended the satchel and pawed over the contents. Jauffre or Prior Maborel must have given the Brother a list; everything I needed was there. There was a set of plain undergarments, a pair of hose, a pair of socks, some hardy, dark-brown, fitted trousers, a plain white shirt and a short, blue tunic with no sleeves. I felt stuffy and overheated as soon as I'd put all of the clothing on, and opened the window to let some air in. After I'd squeezed into the boots, and laced them at the top so they wouldn't slip down, I slipped on one of the pairs of gloves from the dresser in the room, to hide the rings, and looped a brown leather belt around my hips, to hold the dagger Caroline had given me, since I couldn't keep wearing the Captain's boots.

Despite the ordeal of the past few days, I felt refreshed when I left the building, and I knew that it was owing to the restorative spell that the Prior had cast on me earlier. I wondered how long it would last before I would need to sleep, and hoped that I would be well and truly back with Martin before the effects started to wear off.

Outside, Jauffre and Eronor were waiting with Patch, but neither Brother Piner nor Prior Maborel were there. I wondered, only for a moment, why the Prior wasn't seeing me off, and then dismissed the matter; he had done enough for me, and was likely catching up on all the priestly duties I'd caused him to miss that morning. Or, perhaps sleeping. It was still fairly early, and the sun had only risen perhaps an hour earlier.

Jauffre was holding a cloak, a quiver of arrows, and a bow. I felt somewhat relieved when I saw them; I could deal with a bow. As I put on the travelling cloak, which was a dark green colour and completely featureless except for a hood, Jauffre reminded me that I was looking for a Priest of Akatosh who bore resemblance to the Septim Princes, and that Kvatch wasn't a very big place; all I would likely need do is ask for directions to the Chapel, and use my eyes to find him.

I nodded, mounting Patch, then accepted the bow and quiver of arrows, both of which were very rudimentary. I longed for my delicate ebony bow back in the Tower. It had been a gift from Ebel on my fourteenth birthday. The bow Jauffre handed me was made of a plain wood, and the arrows were iron. They were better than nothing, I reminded myself. I secured both to my back, and Jauffre stepped forward to help adjust the two, around my cloak.

"There is a small amount of gold, and some food, in the satchel behind you," he said, fussing with my travelling cloak for a moment longer. "Have you figured out what you are going to say to him when you find him?" he added.

I shook my head. "I will figure something out."

Jauffre stood back and looked up to me then, a hint of a smile on his lips that made me feel, suddenly, as though I could do anything.

"Thank you. Really."

I shook my head. "Thank me when I return."

"Indeed," Jauffre took another step back, and I guessed that he was preparing for me to ride off. I gathered Patch's reigns and turned in the saddle a little, easing Patch around in an arc so we were facing the correct road, which would lead to Kvatch.

"Keep a sharp eye. Should you see anybody – and I mean _anybody_ on the roads, you run. Do not engage."

I nodded to keep him from continuing.

"Talos guide you," he said, holding up a hand in farewell.

"And you," I replied, gently pressing my heels into Patch's flank, to move her onward.

I kept my eyes trained on the horizon, then. Despite Jauffre's insistence that I run if I see anybody, I had no intention of doing so. I knew if I ran, I would be chased. I planned on ducking into the forests if I saw anyone on the road ahead of me.

Why run when I could hide?


	4. Siege on Kvatch

The smell of sulphur wafted over me before I saw Kvatch. But once I could see the city, I pulled Patch to a halt, and stared.

The road to Kvatch had been uneventful, and I had managed to avoid Skingrad entirely, but the city of Kvatch itself...well, something was very wrong.

The city was on fire, in several places. There was a clump of hastily-built tents at the bottom of the pass that lead up to the walled city, and I could see tiny specks that had to be people rushing around it and along the road toward the front gate.

I wondered what they were doing; there was no way into Kvatch, I could see that, even from as far back as I was. There was a gaping, blazing, fiery wound, held up by arching stone pillars, barring the entrance to the city.

 _The Trials of Saint Alessia_ still fresh in my mind from only hours before, I baulked. It was a Gate to Oblivion. What else could it be?

It was already beginning.

I wasn't fast enough.

Was Martin even alive?

Panic assailed me, but instead of fleeing, it urged me onward, and I kicked my heels into Patch's flank, hurrying us toward the rudimentary camp. As I neared it, I passed people – mothers and children, elderly men and women - fleeing in the opposite direction. One or two called out for me to go back, but I kept my eyes trained on the encampment, and dismounted Patch as soon as I was within, racing to the first officer in uniform I saw.

"Captain!" I called out to the man, who was dressed in Imperial officer armour, with the Kvatch fox on its white breast. "I am looking for a priest, named Martin! Do you know where I can find him?" I asked in a rush.

The Captain was on the move, grabbing a sword from another officer, and didn't acknowledge me until I stood in his way.

"Stand aside, girl!" he said angrily, waving his sword at the Oblivion Gate above us. "Can't you see we are busy here?"

He ran off, and I chased after him. "Captain, please!"

Another guard running toward the encampment stopped, heaving a breath when he reached the Captain.

"We've lost the city, Captain. There's too many of them."

"There are still people trapped inside there!" the Captain shouted at the guard. "We can't give up on them!"

The guard shook his head as he took a gasping breath and tried to speak again, but the Captain wasn't finished.

"You find a horse, and you ride – ride to Anvil, and go to the Countess. Tell her what is happening here, and beg her to send reinforcements. Go!" he barked.

The guard righted himself and nodded, racing off.

When the Captain tried to run up the hill again, toward the gate to Oblivion and the burning city beyond, I was blocking his path.

"Why are you still here?"

"I have to find Martin. He's a priest of Akatosh, serving in the Chapel-!"

The Captain pushed past me and started running again, but I was on his heels, and he did actually answer me this time. "The last I saw, all of the priests were leading civilians into the Chapel, before that portal blocked the gate."

I tried to keep up, but the guard was much faster than I. "Is there any other way into the city?" I called after him.

"Not any more!" he called back over his shoulder. "If you're lucky, your priest is trapped in the Chapel, and safe, for now."

I stopped running and watched him ascend the trail.

No way into the city; no way to the Septim heir? What could I do?

As the Captain disappeared from view, my gaze shifted to the gaping, flaming mouth blocking the city that daedra were climbing out of. Unbidden, the Emperor's words came to me.

_"And I am sorry, but you must close them now, my child. You must close the jaws of Oblivion."_

I exhaled in a huff, and wiped the sweat from my brow. What was I supposed to do? What did he mean?

_"My son," he breathed, quietly. "Find him. Save him."_

What else _was_ there to do? I had been tasked with saving the last Septim, and apparently I was the only person on Nirn who could do it.

With shaking hands, I slowly took the simple wooden bow from my back, and nocked an arrow in it, then started walking up the hill. My heart thudded in my chest, and I blinked as ash from the city was blown into my face on a gust of unnaturally hot wind.

I rounded the last corner on the road to Kvatch, and raised the bow, spotting a number of hellbeasts – small, lizard-like creatures – attacking several Kvatch guards, including the Captain.

Aiming swiftly, I loosed the arrow I had notched, and watched it fly, taking out its target as it thudded into one of the lizard-beast's necks.

So, they could be taken out in a single shot. Relieved, I moved a little faster up the slope, but not too fast; I would be useless at close range. As I ran, I fired another arrow, taking out another of the scampering lizard creatures and glancing away from it as it fell down the embankment beside the path.

The Kvatch guards were finishing the wave of daedra off when I arrived at the top. I stood in front of the gate, next to the Captain, with another arrow notched and ready to go.

"Well, you're not as useless as I first thought," the Captain admitted to me.

I was trying my best not to shake. The dead lizard things were being dragged and thrown down the embankment by the remaining guards. A few fallen guards were being carefully laid on the side of the road.

I felt numb as I turned back to face the gate to Oblivion. The heat coming from the realm was creating wavers in the air before it, making it dense, like thick soup. Beyond the fiery entrance to the portal, I could see nothing but more fire. What was beyond?

"I have to find Martin," I told him, again. "Do you know how to deactivate the gate?"

The Captain gave me a scathing look. "Do you think we'd still be here fighting daedra if we knew how to do that?"

I shook my head minutely, ignoring his tone, but kept my eyes on the gate.

"All I know is that it can't be closed from our side," he sighed, sheathing his sword. "Some of my men went through earlier, to try find a way to close it. They haven't returned."

In the corner of my vision, I saw him turn to me, fully. "Are you willing to try and close it?"

The Emperor's words fresh in my mind, I continued staring up into the great eye to Oblivion, and nodded. This must have been what the Emperor meant. Which meant that I didn't, really, have any choice.

_It's either this, or Mehrunes Dagon takes us all._

The Captain's voice seemed to change then, from roughly barking orders, to something...else. Something lower, and more supportive. "I don't know who you are, or where you came from, girl, but thank you. It is a brave thing you choose to do."

Before I could answer, change my mind, or question what I was doing, I ran forward, and crossed through the threshold of the Oblivion gate.

–

There was heat, and the smell of sulphur so strong I felt like my nose was on fire. My eyes leaked tears, but not from crying for once, that hissed as they turned to steam. I broke into a sweat as hot, dense air rushed past me, tearing at my face and hands, and any bits of exposed skin it could find, like urgent, grabby fingers.

When I could see again, I was crouched down, on a stone surface that was dark and smooth, as though it had not long ago been molten. I turned back, still crouched, and looked up upon the gateway. It looked exactly the same from this side - like an angry, roiling void contained only by the ring of stones that caged it.

Sounds of fighting made me turn back to the Deadlands. In the distance I could see white-armoured guards from Kvatch, fighting more of the lizard hellbeasts from before.

I stood, grabbing an arrow as I did, and by the time I was up, the arrow was trained on a daedroth. I exhaled and loosed the arrow, watching it fly and then strike the creature in its head. Before it had crashed to the black stone, I had reached for a second arrow.

While I nocked it, I thanked the Gods that both Caroline, and Ebel, had been so insistent that I take up the bow. At the time it was done so that I might join Ebel on his daily hunt, not as an observer but a competent participant, to match my future husband's aptitude, and exceed that of the other ladies of the court who joined our entourage. It had been the only time that Ebel had looked at me with pride; when I had a bow in my hands. I had worked hard at honing my skill, with the thought that it might bring us together.

Pushing the memory of Ebel roughly aside, I loosed the arrow. After the second creature was downed, I started moving toward the two remaining Kvatch guards, who were battling a daedroth each. They were fighting too close for me to take aim and fire without risking hitting them, but in the end, it didn't matter. As I grew closer, the men dealt death-blows to the lizard things, and then lowered their swords finally.

I ran to them, then.

"Thank you," one of them was panting from exertion as he shook black blood from his sword, and ash from his chin-length black hair, falling out of its bindings and sticking to his forehead with sweat. He looked like he was about forty. "Whoever you are."

"I'm – the Captain sent me," I told him hurriedly, remembering that I wasn't to let anyone know who I was just in time. "Do you know how to close that yet?" I indicated the gate behind us with my bow.

The other guard joined us, favouring one of his legs, and I noticed a trickle of red blood on his armour. He was young, with short, brown hair cropped close to his head, and blood splattered on the front of his usually white cuirass.

He'd been injured. "No, we were set upon the moment we broke through the barrier. One of our party was taken hostage, and the rest were all..." he looked around us as he trailed off.

I followed his gaze. I couldn't see anyone else, just a few of the dead lizard things, and piles of ash.

 _Oh._ The ash.

I turned back to the hobbling guard. "Go back through the gate, and get your leg seen to. You're no good to us here and enough have died fighting today."

The guard gave me a perplexed look, and I was certain he was about to begin protesting, but the older guard cut in. "She's right, Jonas. Get back to base. Take a report to the Captain. Tell him we'll find Menien, if he lives."

With a reluctant grumble, the guard, Jonas, agreed, and hobbled back to the Oblivion Gate. I watched as he disappeared into the fire, and a shudder rippled through me.

"Now," the guard turned to me, and I could see he was suppressing a shudder of his own. "I appreciate your help, but who are you? Why are you here? You're not a soldier. Do you know how to close the gate, is that it?"

I blinked at the questions, uncertain of how to answer. I turned my eyes from him, looking out over the realm that I hadn't gotten a proper look at yet. Black stone was cut here and there with gloopy lava, and several towers of black stone rose in the distance, one of which had a bright, yellow light shooting out of it and high into the sky. The light disappeared into the black, angry clouds overhead, which were lined with deep red, and crackled and fizzed with lightning and thunder, intermittently.

"Girl?" the guard was asking me.

My eyes were drawn back to the tower; the one with the bright light coming out of it. It was taller than the others. It was as good a place as any to begin looking for a way to close the portal. I just hoped when it was done, that we could get back to Kvatch, before it closed.

"There," I pointed to the tower. "That's where we need to go."

The guard spluttered. "Are you mad?"

I turned to him, quickly; my finger on my lips at his outburst; then nodded. "Will you help me? I am good with the bow, but I...have no skill at close range," I finished quietly.

The guard looked taken aback, then spoke more softly. "Who are you?"

I nocked another arrow and stepped past the guard. "Who are you?" I countered.

I didn't make sure the guard was following me, but I knew he would be, and his reply came after a pause. "Ilend. Ilend Vonius."

"Keep your voice down, if you have to speak, Ilend Vonius," I told him in a whisper. "Or we may draw more daedra to us, and you will need to fight for us more often."

The guard – Ilend – didn't speak again, and I was glad. Despite knowing that we needed each other, if we were going to make it out of Oblivion alive, I wasn't comfortable letting him know who I was. What purpose would it serve, anyway? All that mattered was closing the portal, finding Martin, and taking him to Jauffre.

We shuffled through Oblivion, Ilend crouching behind me all the while, meeting little resistance. I picked off a few lizard-like creatures we happened upon, long before they saw us.

A focus, one that Caroline and Ebel had trained upon me during my archery practise, thankfully took control of my actions, while my mind questioned, and panicked, and asked me again and again what I thought I was doing. Quite often, that part of me carried my mother's tone. I ignored her.

Ilend roared past me at one point, when my arrow found its mark on a larger creature, and didn't fell it. It was a Dremora - a foot soldier of Mehrunes Dagon, a memory told me quickly – and it turned to face Ilend and I, enraged, with the arrow sticking out of its neck and its orange eyes burning with hatred. The Kvatch guard took down the Dremora with two blows, and then ran back to me, unscathed. I managed to pick off another of the lizard beasts, which must have been alerted by the noise the Dremora and Ilend had made, by the time Ilend had returned to my side.

"You're a great shot, but don't you have any better arrows?" Ilend asked me, huffing and puffing, regaining his breath.

I shook my head, putting my finger to my lips again.

As we continued, and walked past the dead Dremora, Ilend stooped down to the creature, and retrieved a couple of nasty-looking arrows from a quiver on its back.

He handed them to me, without a word, and I put them into my quiver. Anything had to be better than iron.

There was no way into the tower with the light coming out of it from the ground, so Ilend and I crept toward a smaller, adjoining tower, from which I could see a walkway that joined the two towers, up a little higher. The lizard-creatures we encountered within the tower were easily felled. I made sure I collected every arrow I had shot from them as we continued on, as I worried about what I might do if I ran out.

When we reached the exit that lead to the bridge, and to the larger tower, we found that it was locked.

Ilend shrugged, unfazed, and pointed up.

 _Keep going_ , I supposed he meant. I nodded.

We kept going.

–

"No...run!" a voice from above screamed as we neared the top of the tower.

I scanned the area above us, crouching down, and heard Ilend curse behind me. He pushed past me, running up the ramp.

What was he doing?!

"Menien!" Ilend was crying out.

I crept after him, nocking my bow with one of the Dremora arrows.

A hateful, deep voice rent the air, and I froze.

_"You should not be here, mortal."_

The voice shuddered, echoing in my ears.

_"Your blood is forfeit. Your flesh is mine!"_

"For Kvatch!" I heard Ilend roar, and his voice propelled me into action, from a force I didn't know existed within me. I stood and ran to join Ilend, who, once I broached the top of the tower, I could see fighting with a Dremora, indistinguishable from the other one we'd encountered.

I pulled back the bow string and inhaled at the same time, watching both Ilend and the Dremora's feet, to try make sense of which direction they might be moving. I would have only one shot at this, and if I failed, Ilend and I, one way or another, were probably dead.

I had to do this properly. I picked my moment.

Ilend leaped back suddenly, as the Dremora staggered from a blow he had landed, and put all of its weight on its trailing foot.

I loosed the arrow as the creature started to regain its footing, but the arrow still caught it in the neck. The Dremora roared in pain and anger, and turned to face me. I was already notching another arrow when it began to charge me.

While all of my instincts screamed at me to _run_ , I fired – and for the first time, that day, I missed. The Dremora dodged the attack, and my arrow flew past it, up into the skies beyond.

"Ilend!" I screamed.

There was no more time. The Dremora shot fire at me from its hands, and I ran, sideways and down the ramp we had crept up earlier. The platform at the top of the tower was small, and I knew it would only take the creature a few steps to reach me - less, if its spell landed. I ran down the ramp a little further, in an attempt to gain the time to grab an arrow, and heard Ilend's battle-cry again, and the sound of steel hitting armour. The Dremora roared.

But then the roaring stopped. I spun around, arrow ready, and raced back up to the top of the tower. Ilend was standing on top of the fallen creature, his sword in its chest. He was leaning heavily on his sword, panting, catching his breath again.

"Get," he breathed, waving down at the Dremora, "the keys."

I crouched down by the creature, searching it.

"I can't believe it!" the other voice from before came again. "You killed it!"

Ilend's brows crossed angily as he turned around. "And a lot of good you did, Menien! You blew our cover, nearly got us killed!"

I spotted the man who'd called out earlier, crouched in a small cage to one side of the tower top. He barely fit in it.

"I didn't know you would be stupid enough to fight that thing! I was trying to save you!"

I said nothing, turning back to the Dremora and glaring, as I located a ring of three keys on the Dremora's belt. I unclipped them, and wordlessly threw them to Ilend.

Ilend caught the keys, then withdrew his sword from the Dremora and jumped off the dead creature, hurriedly unlocking Menien's cage. "Go back to Kvatch. Tell the Captain what's happened here."

"You're..." Menien trailed off, as he stood, rubbing his arms and looking between Ilend and me with terror curling his lips into a gaping frown. "You'll keep going? After what you just faced?"

I stood and nodded. "We don't have a choice."

Menien gave Ilend a look that said ' _Who's this?'_ but didn't voice his question. Ilend simply glared and passed Menien his armour roughly, which had been strewn out on a table on the edge of the tower.

Menien began to dress, and Ilend turned to leave.

"Come on," he said to me gruffly.

I turned to leave as he passed by me.

"Wait, you're just going to leave me here?"

Neither of us answered him, or turned back, but I could practically see the anger flowing from Ilend.

"The Sigil Stone!" Menien called after us.

I winced. He _was_ going to get us killed.

"I heard them talking. Remove it, and the gate will close!" he continued.

"Shut up!" Ilend hissed. Menien must have heard him, as we didn't hear from him again.

One of the keys from the Dremora's belt fit the door to the bridge between the two towers, and we rushed along it. The third key on the ring unlocked the door on the other side.

A blazing yellow light was shooting up the centre of the tower, which was hollow in the middle, just like the smaller tower had been. The noise being created by the beam of light was deafening – a constant, roaring buzz that rattled me. I crept forward and leaned over the edge of the ramp that lead both up and down. There were no lizard daedra or Dremora below us, but I couldn't see a stone at the bottom, either.

I indicated "up", to Ilend. He nodded and we began to ascend.

While there were no daedra blocking our climb on the ramp up, once we reached the top of the tower we spotted three Dremora. They were standing guard of a large, glowing white stone, from which the bright yellow light was shooting out of, both upwards into the skies, and downwards through the middle of the tower. _The Sigil stone._

My face fell. We couldn't possibly take on three Dremora at once. We'd been lucky, thus far, to encounter Dremora one at a time.

Ilend leaned close to me to talk, though I wondered why he bothered; I doubted the Dremora could hear anything over the humming of the stone.

"There is only one way this will work," he said, cupping his hand around my ear so I would have a hope of hearing what he said. His words filtered through the noise of the chamber as though he was yelling across the room at me.

"You wait here," he ordered me. "I will draw them off. When we are out of sight, you run, and you take the stone."

I shook my head, turning to him as my eyes widened in horror. He'd be killed.

He nodded at me, and before we could continue arguing in head nods and shakes, he charged forward, screaming toward the three Dremora, his scream barely audible over the sound of the Sigil stone.

_Damn him!_

I fired an arrow I had notched in my bow, but it was only iron. It hit one of the Dremora before Ilend reached them, and the creature staggered to a knee. The other two took a moment to startle at their falling comrade, but in an instant, they were searching the area, and had spotted Ilend tearing toward them, sword drawn and ready to strike.

I notched and loosened another arrow, since they hadn't seen me, and struck a different Dremora in the knee. It howled in rage, though the sound it made was engulfed by the Sigil stone's keening. As the first Dremora I'd hit found its feet again, all three began to charge for Ilend at once.

Ilend turned and ran for an adjoining passageway, and I didn't waste our chance. I raced up onto the platform as the Dremora followed him, and disappeared from view.

The large, spherical stone was difficult to see in all of the light that was being issued from it, but I shrugged my bow onto my shoulder, and put both hands either side of it, feeling through the light for something solid to grab hold of.

The moment my fingers touched the stone, I pulled up, and felt it shift out of its setting.

Then I was engulfed in white light and saw no more.


	5. Priest of Akatosh

I woke, feeling cold, to darkness. I could still smell sulphur, but it wasn't as strong as before.

I heard a rumbling of voices. Human voices.

_Am I dead?_

There was a hand on my forehead. A man's hand, to be so large. One of his thumbs was on my temple, with two fingers hovering on the other, barely making contact.

I blinked, recognising a slightly warm, fuzzy golden glow, issuing from the hand on my head. A Healing spell.

The voices came again, clearer this time; one quiet, deep and rumbling; the other small and higher pitched.

"She has woken. Is there any water left?"

"I think so. I'll go fetch some."

"Thank you."

The sound of footsteps receding.

Why was I being healed, I began to wonder? There was no pain, only tiredness. Feeling too weak to rise, I lay there, blinking, as the silent man over me finished his Healing spell and removed his hand.

It was Ebel.

_I am dead._

My eyes widened; dread filled me. I found some strength and reached for the hand that had been across my forehead a moment ago, catching Ebel by the wrist. He looked to me suddenly, and for a second his eyes were as startled as I felt.

_I was killed in Oblivion._

"It's all right," Ebel said, in a deep, calm voice that was not his own, reaching over and detangling my hand from his wrist.

I didn't hear him. _I am dead_ , I kept repeating to myself. _It didn't work._

 _No, you aren't_ , the stern mother-like voice in my mind reproached me. _Use your head, Sarina_ , she continued. _You were sent to Kvatch to find Ebel's brother. Who do you think this is, then?_

That's right, I remembered with relief, as he unknotted my fingers from his wrist. Of course. This must be Martin. That would explain the healing spell, too, since he was a priest of Akatosh. Ebel didn't know any magic.

Hadn't known any magic.

"I'm so sorry," I rasped, feeling another jolt of dread at the sound of my own voice. I sounded gravelly and insubstantial.

"Please, rest," he leaned back over me, very slightly, to examine my eyes. He covered one of my eyes with his hand (I blinked a little more), then covered the other eye, his gaze critical and concerned. "Do you feel any pain, anywhere?"

I wondered what he was looking for, as I stared up into bright blue eyes, so similar to the Emperor's and so unlike Ebel's stormy grey ones. His eyes were full of intelligence, and weariness, and carried dark circles underneath them, as though he had not slept in days. Perhaps he hadn't.

No, this was not Ebel; I examined his face with whichever eye he wasn't covering at the time, shaking my head in answer to his question. He was younger than Ebel, and while his face carried less flesh around the jaw, as well as a few days worth of stubble on his chin and upper lip, there seemed to be a gentleness to him that I had never seen in Ebel's features. His hair was the same colour and in the same style as Ebel's, though – chin-length, falling around his eyes, and warm brown in colour. Or at least, that was the colour it appeared to be in the dim lighting of wherever we were. The Chapel at Kvatch, I guessed.

Where else would a priest be?

While there was no need to confirm he was the last Septim that I was looking for, I spoke anyway, after clearing my throat, as he removed the hand from my eye and sat back from me.

"You're Martin," my voice came in a whisper now.

He heard me though and nodded, though he didn't smile. When he opened his mouth to speak, he paused and his gaze shifted to somewhere above me. Someone else approached, and he reached up.

"Thank you, Anita," he accepted a cup from a younger, Breton priest. The girl nodded and hurried off to attend to someone else calling her name.

"Here," Martin shuffled closer to me on his knees, and supported the back of my head with one of his hands, holding the cup to my lips with the other. "It's water."

It was a balm on my raspy throat, and I leaned up further, reaching my hand up to tip the cup back a little faster. An unquenchable thirst overcame me.

Martin's grip on the cup didn't falter. "Small sips," he instructed.

I lowered my hand, and let him decide how much water I drank, my head swimming a little, from the water, or the sudden motion.

After a moment of silence between us where I drank, he asked me, "And what is your name? I don't know how you know mine, but I am certain I have never seen you before. Did you move to Kvatch recently?"

I stopped drinking to take a breath, which came out more like a gasp. "Sorry," I said again. The words came a little easier this time, though still sounded weak to my ears. "No, I'm...I'm from the City," I breathed. "I'm – my name is Sarina," I gave him my real name, at that moment forgetting that I was supposed to be incognito.

He took the cup away after a few more precious small sips, placing it on the ground next to us, and retrieved a damp cloth.

"Well, Sarina," he tested my name. "It is lucky for us that you stopped by for a visit when you did," he dabbed the cloth on a spot on my temple. It felt pleasantly cool, and smelled faintly of wildflowers and something more potent, like pine trees.

I closed my eyes at the sensation, feeling a little steadier when I did.

"What happened?" I asked, my throat feeling less raspy as I swallowed.

Martin dabbed silently for a while, and I wondered if he hadn't heard me. But then he spoke, just as quietly as I had.

"You saved us."

He sounded so sad.

I opened my eyes as he shifted his dabbing ministrations to my shoulder. His eyes were on his movements, but his mind seemed far, far away.

"It...the gate is gone?" I asked disbelievingly. "It worked?"

Martin reached across me and dabbed at my elbow. I couldn't feel any pain, so I guessed that he was cleaning wounds to make sure the Healing spell had mended them.

_I was wounded?_

"It looks like it," he sighed, clearly distracted.

At the back of my mind, I realised that Martin was able to bathe the blood from me in places because the shirt Brother Piner had brought for me was falling to pieces. The only thing protecting my modesty, it seemed, was the thicker blue over-tunic. Even the dark trousers were charred and burnt through in places.

Distinctly remembering the heat of Oblivion, I wondered that I wasn't covered in burns myself.

"Then...he was right," I muttered, as I remembered the Emperor's final words, about my closing the jaws of Oblivion.

But all I had done was pick up a stone as a crazed, and quite frankly stupid prisoner had told me to from within the gate. Couldn't anyone else have done that? It seemed utterly unfathomable that the Emperor had seen that _I_ would have to close the the Oblivion gate that would lead to his son.

Martin finished dabbing the herbal cloth on my arm, and leaned back. "Don't tell me," he said dryly, still serious, as he rinsed and rang out the cloth into a bowl of water. "My prayers for Kvatch were answered, and Akatosh sent you."

I looked at him questioningly, and he continued.

"That is who you mean by 'He', is it not? 'He' was right?" his slightly frustrated manner confused me, when he'd been so professional until this moment. He was still speaking rather quietly, his voice a low rumble, but there was a distinct edge there, that I'd not heard in him before.

I shook my head slowly. "I wasn't sent here by Akatosh."

Martin finally did smile then, just a little; a small, ironic curling to one side of his mouth. He shook his head, and stood to leave. "I know you weren't, Sarina. It would be a foul joke of the Divines if you had been. To leave us fighting and crying and dying for days at the hands of the deadlands daedra, only to send a tiny Imperial maid with a bow as their belated Champion," he paused. "Why _did_ you run into the Oblivion Gate?" he asked in a quieter tone, searching for the answer in my eyes.

I didn't know how to respond, and I felt heat creeping into my cheeks as I held his gaze. _To find you_ , was the answer, but I worried that my words would be misinterpreted and then I wouldn't have a chance to explain properly. I had not expected the future Emperor of Cyrodiil to be like this at all – so intense and passionate, and despondent, and so...well, young.

Martin didn't seem to require a response from me, and bowed his head a little, breaking our gaze. "No, you were not sent by the Divines. The Divines choose to ignore us. And despite everything that has occurred, I do not believe that they were cruel enough to send you, for it would mean that they considered us at all. But you will have to excuse me," he added, shaking his head a little, then running a hand through his hair, to push it back out of his eyes. "I did not mean to vent my frustrations to you. It has been a very difficult few days. I apologise."

"Wait, please," I tried to sit up, but felt incredibly weak. I managed to prop myself up on my elbows, though I could feel my arms quaking from the exertion. "Don't go. I'm sorry if you thought I was making fun of you."

I couldn't lose him now. I still had to find a way to tell him about his father, and the Amulet of Kings.

Martin remained standing, the melancholy in his manner masked by healer proficiency. "Is the pain returning?"

 _Returning_ , I wondered?

I shook my head. "No, but please, Martin. Stay a while?"

He flushed, but knelt by my side again, and I was relieved to note that the edge from his voice had all but gone. "What is it that you need of me, Hero of Kvatch?"

Now it was my turn to flush; I was nobody's hero. I tried to remain focused. We had to get back to Weynon Priory as soon as possible.

"You asked me, a moment ago..." I began carefully, casting my eyes over the room, and settling them on a pallet bed a small distance from me, on which lay Ilend. I smiled, relieved to see him, for it meant he had survived. If Ilend could bravely charge and lead three Dremora away from me, I could do my part and speak to a priest.

I turned back to Martin; he looked somewhere between concerned and embarrassed. My face fell, as I held his gaze, and remembered what I had to tell him. It would turn his life upside-down. My joy in seeing brave Ilend alive all but vanished.

"You asked me a moment ago why I ran into that Oblivion Gate," I reminded him. "And who I meant when I said 'he was right'?"

He nodded slightly, and I continued with a sigh. "Your father is the reason I came to Kvatch and went into that gate. He said I had to close the Gates of Oblivion."

 _And save you_ , I thought to myself. _And yet here you are, healing me._

Martin looked confused, as I had expected. "My father? But, there must be some mistake. He passed away years ago, and knew nothing of Oblivion gates."

I shook my head. "I am sorry," I started again, but lowered my voice. "I mean your...real father. The late Emperor, Uriel Septim VII."

Martin's confusion shifted slowly as his eyes narrowed slightly, but then the look was gone, and his expression was blank. He didn't respond, and I realised that he thought me to be mad.

Unconsciously, I reached a hand up to him, still fascinated that he could look so much like Ebel, yet be so different.

"I knew as soon as I saw you," I said. I heard him inhale sharply, and he startled slightly when my fingertips ghosted the top of his cheek, fleetingly. "I knew it was true. That you are his son. You have his eyes...and..."

I trailed off, not wanting to tell him he reminded me of the man who was to become my husband, and let my hand – and eyes - fall back into my lap. I found my train of thought again, but kept looking at my hands.

"You are the last Septim, Martin," I said in a whisper. "And Tamriel must have an Emperor, or portals to Oblivion, like the one that has destroyed Kvatch and killed so many will keep opening."

I saw him shift a little in my peripheral, and then he asked in a low voice: " _Why_?"

Glad that he was finally responding, I raised my eyes, trying to not look too desperate as I continued. "Because without a descendant of Alessia wearing the Amulet of Kings, the dragonfires extinguish. Without the dragonfires, we are no longer protected by Akatosh from Mehrunes Dagon-"

"No," he stopped me, the confusion now evident on his features. "Why would you say such things to me?"

I felt a weight settle on my shoulders; felt myself get heavier. I paled as the blood rushed out of my face and my stomach flipped with a painful jolt. He didn't believe me.

"You...you think me mad, don't you?" I asked sadly, shaking my head. "You didn't see him, Martin, you weren't with him when he died-"

"Who?"

"The Emperor."

"And you were?"

"Yes!"

Martin looked cross now, and stood. "Your mind has been addled by your time in the Deadlands, Hero of Kvatch," he prepared to leave. I tried to rise as well, but only managed to sit up straighter.

"My mind has never been clearer," I said earnestly. "Please, just come with me to Jauffre, he will explain-"

"Jauffre?!" Martin spun back around at the Grandmaster's name, and I realised that I should have mentioned him sooner.

"What does Father Jauffre have to do with this?" he exclaimed, still clearly frustrated with our conversation.

We were attracting attention now, and I sadly looked for help either side of me, noting the curious expressions from some of the other priests. There would be no help from there; nobody but Jauffre, and I, knew who Martin truly was. I returned my gaze to Martin, as I hushed in a quieter voice than before. "Father Jauffre sent me here, to retrieve-"

"I thought you said _the Emperor_ sent you to Kvatch-"

"No," I cut in sternly, feeling my blood start to boil, as the sadness of not being believed started to twist into frustration. I had run through Oblivion and out again to find this man, and now he would listen to me!

"Your father," I said pointedly, "sent me after _you_ , and said I had to close the gate, and save you. Jauffre," I added quickly, when it looked like Martin was about to cut me off again, "sent me to Kvatch."

"Now please," I added, giving him a stern look, which was difficult when he was standing next to me and I was barely supporting myself sitting up. I exhaled, trying to calm myself, "I know you think this to be madness. Jauffre didn't believe me either, at first, until I showed him the Amulet of Kings, and gave him a full account of all that had passed in the City.

"You don't have to believe everything I've told you," a lump rose in my throat and I felt my eyes misting in the knowledge that he truly didn't. His father, with eyes so similar, had so easily trusted me, with everything. And look at how badly I was fulfilling his final request?

No time for tears, I shook my head at myself. Martin would believe me, over time.

"Will you at least ride with me to Weynon Priory?" I asked, wishing the waver from my voice gone. "That...that is all this Hero would ask of you," I said in a rush, lowering my head, feeling dumb for calling myself a hero but hoping that it would rouse his prior gratitude.

Martin was silent, but I heard his robes shuffling as he took a step closer to me, then knelt once more.

I was certain he was going to say no. That he'd put me into a healing sleep and walk away, and then I would never find him again. Keeping my eyes lowered, I felt a few tears falling from my eyes, and run down my cheeks, as my exhaustion, and failure, overwhelmed me.

A large hand rested on top of my down-turned head, and I stilled. I bit my bottom lip, and clenched my eyes closed, willing the tears away, and at the same time, willing him to agree to come with me.

Martin sighed and spoke very quietly. "I will escort you to Weynon Priory."

I raised my eyes to him, still biting my bottom lip so I wouldn't gape.

"Thank you," I murmured. My face burned and I wished, yet again, that I did not cry so easily. It was embarrassing.

Martin shook his head at me, his expression serious. "You need to understand," he continued, removing his hand from my head. "I do this because you are my patient. Because, with your mind so addled, the person best suited to care for you is Prior Maborel." he said with a weighty exhale.

I nodded, satisfied. If I could get him to Weynon Priory, I was certain Jauffre could convince him, where I had failed.

"I promise you nothing beyond that, particularly nothing of this...this..." he searched for words, then gave up, his shoulders dropping a little.

"Perhaps this is just a game, after all," his voice was so low, I could barely hear him. "Perhaps, you are one of Sanguine's disciples, sent after all these years to persuade me to stray, and retrieve me, when my faith is in doubt."

I didn't know what he was talking about, and hastily wiped my eyes, shaking my head. "Jauffre will explain," I said resolutely. "But we must leave at once."

Martin rose, but shook his head. "Kvatch is my home, and there are people here who need me. I will not leave them without a word's notice."

I should have expected him to put his duty to the many first. _He is going to make a fine Emperor_ , I thought idly.

"I am your patient, too," I tried to sound reasonable. "If all I have told you is the folly of a madwoman, then you are away, at most, for two days, while you accompany me. Depending on how fast we ride, you could be back here by tomorrow night."

Martin still looked doubtful, but at least he had agreed to come with me. He held his hands out to me, and I accepted them gratefully, so that I could stand.

My feet and legs felt shaky, but I made a pointed effort not to fall onto Martin as I settled back on solid ground. I had to appear stronger than I felt.

"And what if this is not folly, and you are not mad?" Martin asked quietly, looking down at me with a frown, supporting me as I tried not to waver.

The fear of uncertainty was bright in his eyes, though his face remained passive and unsmiling. I steadied myself against his forearms, then let go of him slowly, testing my balance, while I thought about how to reply to that without scaring him. Of course, it was true, and he would likely never return to Kvatch. At least, not any time soon, and not as a priest.

I almost wished for the despondent, passionate Martin to show himself again, talking bitterly about his disappointment in the Nine. Dour, uncertain Martin made me feel as though I would never smile again.

"Then you will have an opportunity to save everybody," I turned away and took a step, shifting my weight, and felt something being rested on my neck and shoulders. I looked over my shoulder at the priest; Martin was placing my cloak over me. Somehow it had survived Oblivion.

I remembered the state of my clothes, and lowered my eyes, clasping the cloak swiftly as I thanked him hastily.

Martin nodded in reply. "There is a store of charity clothing, at the back of the Chapel, that was donated to give to those in need. You should be able to find something to ride north in, in there," he motioned for me to walk, but then took the lead when he realised I didn't know where to go.

I followed him, each step feeling easier, lighter. I noticed, as my hair bobbed into my face, that my curls were dark brown again. Jauffre's Alteration spell had worn off.

"He long have I been here?" I mused as Martin lead us around lines of temporary beds, all occupied; some of them with attending priests and assistants beside them, wearing dark grey robes like Martin's.

We walked past a pallet surrounded by wounded men and women, all sitting up, playing a game of cards around an older man whose legs had clearly recently been removed; the bandages criss-crossed over his stumps dotted with blood. They all looked tired, but cheerful.

"Nearly two days," Martin replied, though I hadn't expected him to.

My mind quirked in interest. _Two days?_

"I must have needed the sleep," I replied quietly. Had I slept for so long because Prior Maborel's restorative spell had delayed my fatigue, not removed it completely?

Martin turned back, a little tuck of concern knitted on his brow. "You didn't sleep for much of it. You don't remember?"

I paled but shook my head as Martin lead us into an adjoining room at the back of the Chapel. There were boxes stacked against the far wall; some full of clothes, and others empty, that looked like they'd once contained food, with only crumbs of something remaining in them.

"Perhaps it is better that you do not remember it," he replied softly, moving to one of the boxes, and handing me a long, linen skirt.

Now I was curious, though, as I wondered what I had done, and why I couldn't remember it. I held the skirt against me, to check it would fit, then moved to the box Martin was next to, and put the skirt back in it. We would be riding; a long skirt was no good. I pawed through the hand-me-downs for myself.

"Did I...say anything?" I tried to ask casually, drawing a plain white shirt out of the selection.

"We can talk of this another time," Martin headed back to the door. "You can change your clothes in here. I have a few things to pack, even if it is only for a single night," he said wryly.

"Oh, of course. I'll wait for you here."

I mentally reminded myself to ask Martin what had happened to me during the two days I had lost, when there was time.

I heard him leave as I returned to the boxes of clothing, and tried to locate a pair of trousers that weren't too large. Everything seemed to be made for men or women five sizes larger than me. I gave up on trousers in the end, instead finding a long red skirt made for riding, with a long, hemmed slit running down the middle. The skirt was made of a thicker, richer material than most of the other clothing, and was edged in a single strand of thin, black cord. I wondered who had donated it as I shuffled into it.

Once I was dressed in the white shirt, red skirt, plus some stockings and the leather boots Brother Piner had bought, I tied a piece of black cloth around my waist, to keep the shirt tucked in, and found a piece of thin leather to bind my hair back into a ponytail with.

By the time I had put my cloak back on, Martin had returned to the room, holding a satchel over his shoulder, and my bow and quiver in his hands. He passed the latter to me. I looked him up and down as I took them; he was still in his monk's robes.

He only looked expectantly back at me. "Are you ready?"

I slung the bow and quiver over my shoulders. "Shouldn't you be wearing traveling clothes?" I asked.

Martin shook his head. "A priest needs no other clothes."

I paused. _But you aren't just a priest any more._

"But...you need to ride," I turned back and indicated the box of garments, urging him to take something. "And won't it look odd, a young lady and a priest traveling together?" I added.

"No," he muttered, but selected a few items from the box, examining them. He finally selected a pair of trousers and a long shirt, but then shoved them into his pack.

"I am still a priest, in Kvatch," he explained. "I shall change once we are on the road."

That would have to do, I decided, and nodded in agreement. Had anyone been witness to our strange, hushed conversation earlier, I wondered suddenly? Would anyone be looking for us to leave, and recognise either me, or my companion?

If anyone had, or did, we would be in trouble. A priest, and a useless girl in too-large clothing that obviously wasn't her own. What good would we be, against trained assassins?


	6. Rosethorn Hall

My wish to leave Kvatch without attracting attention was foiled the moment Martin and I stepped into the encampment outside of the city to retrieve Patch. Prior Maborel's horse had been moved to a rudimentary stables, where she was grazing with some other horses, fenced in by a few poles in the ground joined together by long, looping sections of rope.

The Captain who I had chased up to the Oblivion gate earlier spotted me, and called out loudly.

"You did it, girl!" he cried, catching the attention of several other soldiers and townsfolk, who turned with interest to watch our approach.

He hurried over to us and stopped, reaching out, taking my hand and shaking it in congratulation. "I don't know how you did it, but you did it! You saved the city!"

His eyes drifted to Martin, who had stopped beside me, and was watching the Captain's actions with interest.

"And I can see you found your priest," he added, his grin growing even wider. He looked back to me. "You are blessed, indeed-"

"Please," I stopped him, trying to extricate my hand graciously. "I'm sorry Captain, but we are in a great hurry."

The Captain let go of my hand, his smile faltering only slightly. "But, we must celebrate! The city is free from daedra, and once the gate closed we were able to finish the scattering creatures off for good, and secure the castle."

"Did you find the Count?" Martin asked quickly. I was grateful that he'd attracted the Captain's attention, because I felt flushed by his manner, and wasn't certain how to respond to him. So much for a fast exit.

The Captain's face fell completely this time. "No. Unfortunately we were too late to save the Count."

"Oh, poor Ormellius," I frowned. I had met the Count, Ormellius Goldwine, a few times at court. He had been firm friends with Geldall and was a kind, patient grandfatherly-type, though he had no children of his own.

Martin gave me a strange, sideways look, and I realised I shouldn't have said anything. I spoke to the Captain again, quickly, to cover my mistake.

"I am sorry for your loss," I started with a small bow in farewell. "But we really must be on our way."

The Captain sighed. "I see there is no persuading your will otherwise. Will you at least accept a gift, for your service to the city?"

"I...I can't possibly-" again, I wasn't entirely sure of how I should reply.

"Here," the Captain started taking off his chain mail, right in front of me.

"Captain!" I exclaimed. I flashed Martin a glance, for help - he looked like he was trying not to laugh. I repressed the urge to turn away from the Captain entirely.

"Please, I insist. It may serve you well in days to come," he finished shrugging out of his mail, and folded it in half, passing it to me. He was wearing a padded brown shirt underneath, and I exhaled in relief. That could have been embarrassing for everybody.

"Only if you insist," I said uncertainly, trying to hold onto the heavy mail as it weighed me down, and tried to slip through my fingers.

Why had he given me his chain mail, I wondered? It was far too large for me to wear. Perhaps Martin could make use of it?

"There is an enchantment on it, you know," the Captain said fondly. "I always felt stronger wearing that armour, because of it. A fitting piece for the Hero of Kvatch to inherit, I think."

There was that name again; I flicked another glance at Martin, wondering if he had devised the name, or if it was in fact what everybody was calling me. He still looked thoroughly amused.

"All right. Thank you, sir," I said, somewhat uncertainly.

"Captain Matius," he supplied, bowing his head in belated greeting.

I dipped back a small curtsy automatically. "Thank you, Captain Matius," I repeated. "I appreciate the gesture, as unnecessary as it is. But we _really_ must be going now."

"Of course," he stood aside, and we passed and walked to the makeshift stable. "May the Divines keep you safe on your travels."

"And you," I called back over my shoulder, grasping hold of the chain mail again as it tried to slide out of my arms.

 _What on Nirn am I going to do with this_ , I wondered?

I sighed with some relief that we were able to be on our way now, and heard a small chuckle of amusement from my companion. I gave him a sideways, wary glance.

"What is so funny, Martin?" I whispered.

He shook his head, suppressing his laughter. "I am sorry. You have to admit, whatever else that was, it was entertaining to watch. When he started removing his armour-"

"Oh," I blushed, walking a little faster.

"-I wondered if he was going to proposition you!"

"Well, _really_ ," I said in a hushed voice. "That's hardly appropriate."

Martin jogged and fell into step beside me again, ducking to meet my eyes. "And you have to be so proper, do you?"

I hesitated, opening my mouth to snap a reply, but didn't know what to counter with. "No, of course not," I said after a moment. "But...there is no need to make fun of him. The Captain was just trying to show his gratitude..." I added as an afterthought, quietly, as we reached Patch. The mare seemed to have entirely ignored our approach.

"I suppose so," he agreed, though there was still laughter in his tone.

I gave up trying to hold onto Captain Matius' armour, and passed it to Martin. _This is new,_ I thought. A laugh. A smile. Perhaps it was the fresh air, or the sunlight, along with the Captain's bemusing reward, that had altered his mood. I wondered how long it would last.

I clasped Patch's bridle in my hand, and patted her head with the other. She snorted, and kept eating grass.

I crossed my brows at her in my own amusement, now, wondering who, if anyone, had trained her, with a shake of my head. I turned to Martin to discuss our departure, but any words I would have said died in my throat when I saw him. He had paled, and was as still as a statue, with the chain mail held close to him and his hands grasping it tightly; his knuckles were white. He was staring at Patch with a look of dread on his face.

"What is it?" I asked quickly.

Martin did a double take, then blinked at me, before managing, "That's...Prior Maborel's horse."

"Yes, it is," I grabbed hold of her bridle a little lower, so she would raise her head. "Her name is Patch, and she does not seem to realise-"

"I know," Martin cut me off, shock still in his tone.

I gave him a quizzical look. "Are you feeling all right?" I asked, and when he didn't reply, I decided it was best to push on. I nodded to her saddle. "You should tie your bag to the back. Oh - unless you have a horse?" I looked about at the other mares in the yard, hoping it was so.

Martin shook his head, the discomfort on his features smoothing away, but I still thought he looked pale as he brought his satchel down off his shoulders, then draped the Kvatch chain mail over one arm. "It is only...why would he give you his horse?"

I realised what was wrong. Seeing Patch must have given the story I had pressed upon him in the Chapel, that he had convinced himself was madness, some credibility. Martin was afraid. Of course he was afraid.

I watched him as he slowly moved forward, and deftly tied his satchel to Patch's saddle. His hands didn't shake, but they mis-tied the straps a few times; his mind clearly elsewhere.

Patch didn't seem to even notice the added weight, but then I supposed Martin's satchel _did_ look lightly packed.

"Why do you think?" I asked Martin kindly when he had turned back from his task.

He didn't answer, or look at me; his eyes cast over the ruined city he had told me was his home, as though he was committing the sight of it to his memory.

I left the conversation that would only draw Martin into further desolation alone, and indicated the chain mail over his arm. "Why don't you wear it, on our journey? It's too big to fit in either of our satchels, and it won't fit me without...considerable alterations."

Martin's gaze drifted down from Kvatch, to look between me and the chain mail, blinking slightly. He drew it off his arm, and held it up, looking at it somewhat critically. "But, if I wear it - won't that offend your Captain Matius?"

I answered quickly, with a bubble of embarrassment bursting from me. "Hardly. It was a reward, not a gift to remember him by."

I busied myself with the saddle, walking around Patch to tighten the straps properly.

"Are you certain?" Martin peeked over Patch, to meet my eyes. I saw that amusement from before back in his, and responded with only a level look as I tightened a saddle strap. I was glad that he seemed to have gotten over the shock of seeing Prior Maborel's horse, even if it was at my expense, and a smile unwittingly came to my lips at the sight of his.

Then Martin turned away, and shrugged the armour over his head as I finished preparing Patch. I heard it jangle down around him, over his monk's robes.

"It's not too heavy for you, is it?" I asked, walking around the horse to inspect him. The Captain had been larger than Martin, so his armour hung on him like a sack.

"No, it's actually quite comfortable," he admitted, then wrinkled his nose. "Though, it could use a clean."

I smiled facetiously, trying not to laugh at the squeamish look on his face. "Now who's being a snob?"

He didn't miss a beat. "Is that why you didn't want to wear it?"

"No," I laughed genuinely now, and brought his attention back to Patch. "She is ready. How do you want to do this? I'm sure Patch is strong enough to bear both of us, but the saddle is only large enough for one."

"I don't mind walking," he said obligingly.

I felt somewhat relieved at his chivalry, and that we wouldn't have to both try squeeze into the saddle.

"I have been sitting down for the better part of a week, attending to..." he trailed off, his expression losing its fleeting moment of brightness.

"Are you certain?" I tried to distract him from his memories. "I thought you wanted to make haste, and return to Kvatch, as quickly as possible? Walking will make our journey longer."

Martin shook his head, his smile gone and his eyes downcast.

"You ride, Sarina. I wish to walk."

"As you wish," I frowned as I mounted Patch and righted myself in the saddle, adjusting the bow and quiver so they were straight.

"I know," I had a thought, once I had settled. "We are not far from Skingrad. I have..."

I paused, deciding to change my wording to be more ambiguous. "We can get another horse there."

_Why don't you want to tell him outright that your family has horses there?_

Martin took Patch's bridle, and began leading her out of the stable. I was about to stop him; I could certainly ride Patch out myself; when he spoke first.

"You have that kind of money at your disposal?" he asked doubtfully. "Horses are quite expensive."

"That won't be a problem," I responded, then winced at myself. I had been trying to sound nonchalant about it, but had come off evasive, instead.

Martin cast a wary look back at me, over his shoulder, as he re-tied the stable gate behind us - looping the rope connecting to the supporting pole over the top of it. "You're not a thief, are you?"

I gaped, shocked. "What? No!"

"It would explain why you have Prior Maborel's horse, of course," he continued almost to himself, as he lead us toward the main road out of Kvatch.

"I'm not a thief!" I stuttered, mortified that he thought I was capable of taking somebody else's property. "Prior Maborel loaned me Patch, so that I might travel more quickly!"

"Sarina, it's all right!"

I stopped defending myself and closed my mouth when I realised Martin was laughing.

"I am teasing you," he admitted.

I flushed again, riling at this cheeky side to Martin, that seemed so ready to embarrass me.

I didn't know how to reply. He stopped chuckling, and my blush receded. He walked us along in silence, lead Patch onto the road, and then turned and handed me the reigns.

"I suppose you are going to ride off without me now, for being so rude to you?" he asked steadily.

I shook my head, and secured the reigns in my hands, as a cheeky reply wound its way out of my mouth. "Now, that wouldn't do," I sighed. "What if there was trouble on the road? Who would save you then?"

I pressed my heels very lightly into Patch's flank, and the mare increased her walking pace.

Martin matched our pace easily, walking alongside us, and laughed sort of ironically, shaking his head. "I assure you, I can defend myself, when necessary. I wasn't always a priest, you know."

"It's all right, Martin," I said, casting him a wry glance. "I'm just teasing you."

He huffed a laugh but said no more.

 _But it is good to know that you can defend yourself_ , I thought. If Martin could fight, and I could use my bow, then perhaps we weren't as vulnerable as I had first thought we would be.

We headed east along the Gold road, and I realised that the day was already late; our shadows were tall along the road in front of us.

"Martin, what time would you say it is?" I asked him lightly.

Martin looked up at the horizon for a moment. "At a guess...four? Or a little later?"

"Hmm," I mused, agreeing with him. If we continued on, we would have the cover of night on our side; but it would also be on the side of anyone who wanted to sneak up on us. I repressed a shudder at the thought, as my eyes drifted to the gloomy, heavily-wooded tree line either side of the road. We were hopelessly exposed.

"It shouldn't be a problem," he added conversationally. "We are an hour or two from Skingrad, at most. We can stop there at the inn, if you are worried about travelling through the night."

I didn't answer, relieved as I was that he thought it acceptable that we wait until dawn before continuing our return to the Priory. I debated telling him about Rosethorn Hall, my family home, and our silence resumed.

 _Why don't I want to tell Martin who I am_ , I wondered? _Because of Ebel?_

 _But he doesn't even know Ebel_ , I countered, glancing at him. His head was turned away from me, and the afternoon sun played with the reddish colour in his hair, making it brighter than it was, as light gleamed silver in a few places on the Kvatchian armour he was wearing.

 _He never will know Ebel_ , I realised sadly. _Or the Emperor. Or any of his family._

With that sobering thought, I came to a decision.

"Martin," I started warily. "I have property – a house - in Skingrad," I told him, casting my eyes to the road ahead, as I saw him turn to regard me. "We can stay there for the night, if you wish, rather than spend money on an inn, or ride on."

Martin didn't sound fazed when he spoke. "That makes things easier. Why didn't you say so earlier? I thought you said you were from the Imperial City?"

 _Damn_ , I thought. Now I had to explain.

I bit my bottom lip, and considered my words and watched the horizon, aware that Martin's eyes were still on me.

"I didn't think we would be stopping," I said finally. "I thought we would be riding through the night."

I left answering the part about living in the City alone, and thankfully, Martin didn't press me.

The slow ride to Skingrad was otherwise uneventful, and when we reached the stables, another thought occurred to me; one that sent me somewhat into a panic.

I would be recognised.

They would call me Lady Passero.

Word would spread that I was here.

 _They_ would find us. They would find _Martin_.

"Martin," I paled, and hurriedly climbed down from Patch, stopping the horse so she was between me and the stable yard. "Would you take Patch on to the stable? I will go ahead and have Eyja prepare a room for you."

Martin frowned, but took the reigns. "Who's Eyja?"

I paused, closing my eyes a moment.

"My housekeeper," I managed, and hurried on. "Once Patch is secured, just go through the main gate. Rosethorn Hall is on the corner," I explained. "It is the only house with briars on it, and the roses should be in bloom, at this time of year."

He nodded, and I hurried away from him before he could ask any more. A part of me screamed at my haste, and my cowardice; that I should not be leaving the future Emperor of Tamriel alone under any circumstances. I tried to reason with myself, as I entered the main gate with barely a word to the guards, that Martin would be safer at that moment if we were not seen together.

As it was, the guards failed to recognise me; one nodding idly toward me as I dipped the bow of a commoner to them, and the other mentioning something about the location of the Two Sisters Lodge, if I had need of accommodation. Perhaps it was my cheap clothing, or my shorter hair, or the fact that I hadn't visited Skingrad for many years, but whatever the reason; I was glad.

But the local gossips – and the stable master's wife was among them – _would_ recognise me. It was practically their job to notice members of the aristocracy so they might comment on our activities as they liked. And if they knew I was here, and spread the word that I was travelling with a man, Martin would be in even greater danger than he already was.

Resolved in my decision to leave him alone, I consoled myself in knowing that they would not care about the lone travelling monk with his poorly-trained piebald mare, wearing Kvatch chainmail that was too large for him.

And by the time anybody worked out that he was a guest of Rosethorn Hall, we would have already left.

–

I stepped into the entryway, and locked the door to Rosethorn Hall behind me. Eyja could let Martin in when he arrived.

The entry smelled faintly of wood polish and roses, and there was a silver bowl of white and yellow blooms, very likely picked from the briars outside that morning, on the neat side table. The smell of home, even though it had not been my home for many years, soothed me.

I breathed in a calming breath as I unfastened my cloak. I could smell fresh bread, and something with a delicious contrasting mix of mint and snowberries in it. I smiled, remembering that Eyja always managed to put snowberries in every treat she baked, and she had told me once that it was because the smell reminded her of her mother.

"Eyja?" I called out.

The Nord woman's head peered around from the kitchen and into the hallway.

"My Lady!" she said with a startle, her eyes widening as she rushed to my side and helped me take off my cloak.

"Thank you," I sighed as she took it and hung it in a slim wardrobe in the entry. "How are you?" I asked her.

"I'm – I'm well, my Lady," she answered, looking taken back. She did look well, I determined – well fed, well rested - though her face was older than I remembered. Eyja had been housekeeper of Rosethorn Hall since before I had been born, so I had memories of her from childhood, when she'd been a younger woman.

"But – I - I had no idea that you-" she stuttered, forgetting propriety for a moment. She suddenly reached out, embracing me tightly. "When I heard about the Emperor and his sons, and there was no word of you, I feared you were dead!" she whispered, pulling back just as suddenly, to look over me, as though she didn't believe I was there. "I didn't know what to do!"

Oh. So the news of the murders had reached Skingrad.

 _Of course it has_ , my mother's voice scorned. _They happened over three days ago._

"I am sorry for worrying you," I replied, detangling myself from her grasp, to walk down the hallway and enter the primary sitting room. "But I am here now, for a night," I sighed.

"I am relieved that you are safe, my Lady," Eyja trailed after me. I could tell she was full of questions, perhaps about what had happened in the City, how I had escaped, why I was without my bodyguard, or even more simply perhaps why I was here without any warning in strange, mis-matched clothing and cheap boots.

Instead of asking me anything though, she shrieked and clapped a hand to her mouth.

I startled at the sound. "What's wrong?" I asked hurriedly.

"Your hair!" she lowered her hand. "What has _happened_ to you?"

_That was all?_

"Eyja," I ignored the question, giving her a bit of a scornful look, then changed the subject. There was too much to tell, and it would only endanger her, if she knew even the half of it.

"We are to have company tonight. A priest of Akatosh, from Kvatch. His name is Martin," I explained. Eyja had never met Ebel, so I wasn't worried about her seeing any similarity. And lots of people had blue eyes, though none quite as striking as the Emperor's, or Martin's. I had to hope that Eyja had never been close enough to the Emperor to notice such a thing.

"Very good, my Lady," she composed herself. "I shall ready a place for him at the dinner table."

"Thank you," I nodded. "And, if you could prepare a bedroom?" I added. "It shall be only for the night. The bedroom on the second floor will suffice, if it is ready," I mused. It had been my room, when I was a child, but it had been turned into a guest room when I had been shifted to the Imperial City. On the rare occasions that I had come home to visit, I had stayed in the room; my mother's unspoken taunt that I was to be a guest in my own home. But now that mother had passed away, it was no longer my room at all. I would take her room, on the top floor, as Lady of Rosethorn Hall.

"At once, my Lady," she bobbed another curtsy and, with an overwhelmed widening of her eyes, she moved to leave.

There was a knock to the door.

"Shall I get that first, my Lady?"

"Yes, please," I sat in a chair, removing my boots and flexing my toes. "That will be Martin. You can show him straight in here," I called out as she disappeared in the direction of the front door.

I stowed the boots under the table, and straightened my back, smoothing my hands over my skirt, then crossed my brows at the riding garment, and my hands; small and pale, with dirt under the fingernails, resting formally on the deep red. I shook my head at myself. I had so swiftly fallen into the Lady role that I had always known. But it was hardly necessary, at the moment, at least.

I rose and took a book from the shelf – one of my father's _Dance in Fire_ volumes. Before returning to my seat, I lit two more lanterns, to cast a little more light into the room. The sun had set, and owing to Skingrad's high walls, I knew it would be dark, very soon.

As I moved away from the lanterns and turned back to take my seat, Eyja showed Martin into the drawing room; the pair stopping in the doorway to regard me. I hesitated, meeting Martin's questioning gaze, as I held the book to my chest.

"My Lady, it is Brother Martin, as you expected," Eyja announced, more steady than she had been when I had arrived.

Martin gave Eyja a surprised look at the words _my Lady_ and I flushed, but if she noticed either response, she didn't dwell on it.

Perhaps I should have warned him of this, after all.

"Thank you," I said hurriedly.

"What time would my Lady and her guest like to have dinner?" she asked. I wished I'd asked her to drop the _my Lady_ , suddenly.

Martin had a curl of amusement at the corner of his mouth. I saw his lips form a word, as his eyes met mine again; _"Lady?"_

I shook my head at him slightly, but he'd distracted me from Eyja's question, and I faltered. "Um. I'm not sure. Seven o'clock?" I deferred to him.

Martin didn't answer straight away, perhaps not realising there had been a question, until he noticed that Eyja was looking at him expectantly.

"Oh! Yes, certainly. That sounds..."

His stomach chose that moment to growl loudly, and Eyja's eyes laughed as her lips formed a knowing smile. "Perhaps a little earlier than seven, Brother Martin?"

"No, I'm sorry," he apologised, holding his hand to his stomach and looking embarrassed. "Seven o'clock is fine."

"As you like," she turned back to me and bobbed another curtsy. "I'll prepare everything at once, my Lady."

"Thank you, Eyja," I called with a pang, as she departed. I busied myself by taking my seat, and clutched the book to my chest again, my cheeks flaming red. Martin stood in the doorway for a moment longer, and I looked up to him finally, somewhat pleadingly.

"Won't you take a seat?"

He was smirking and there was amusement in his eyes. He nodded in a small, courteous way, and took the seat opposite me. "I understand you a little more, all of a sudden," he spoke quietly as he sat.

I wondered if he was teasing me again, and placed the book in front of me on the table, so I would stop grasping at it.

"You have a lovely home," he commented, as his eyes roved the room. "The decor is very...lavish?" he tasted the word, and then looked to me for explanation, I felt.

I smiled weakly at him. "It's my mother's style," I started. "As I told you in Kvatch, I live in the City."

"Yet you have a family home in Skingrad?" he asked. "Will your mother be joining us?"

I shook my head. "She died, last year," I explained slowly.

"Oh," the glint in Martin's eye vanished. "I am so sorry - I'm a fool-"

I shook my head, that it was all right, and continued. "Eyja stays on, so the house doesn't fall into disrepair," I glanced toward the door she had exited through. "She has been part of my household since I was a baby," somehow talking about other people was easier. "I couldn't imagine Rosethorn Hall without her," I smiled, returning my attention to Martin. "In truth, I feel as though this is her house, and I am invading her sanctuary by being here."

Martin returned my smile easily, then hesitated, and I saw the question forming in his eyes before he spoke it.

"Sarina...why didn't you tell me you were noble?"

My heart thudded in my chest. "I...didn't think it was relevant," I tried to reply evenly, but the words came out in a bit of a rush.

"I don't think so," Martin said cleverly, leaning forward in his seat. "You had plenty of opportunities. It would have made the conversation about acquiring another horse simpler, for example," he pressed on. "You were avoiding telling me. Why?" he asked plainly.

I paled at his directness, and even though there was kindness in his eyes, and his question was more one of intrigue than interrogation, I felt frightened by it.

I looked around the room for answers I could voice, and felt trapped, as bothersome tears sprang to my eyes again. Ebel's face, eyes glazed, mouth slack, and forehead bloody with that symbol of the sun worked its way into my mind, and I clenched my eyes closed to dismiss it.

My eyes opened almost straight away again as, at that moment, I realised why I panicked whenever conversation ventured toward the subject of who I was, and why I didn't want to tell Martin about it.

It was grief. I was grieving, for Ebel, the Princes, and the Emperor. For the fallen Blades, who had tried so valiantly to defend us against overwhelming odds. For the lives that had been stolen, for no discernible reason.

Martin stood hurriedly when he saw that I was in tears, and he was by my side in a beat. "I'm sorry!" he spluttered, kneeling in front of me. He rested his hands on my arms and I noticed him duck down, to try make eye contact. I kept my eyes lowered. Some of my shorter curls sprung forward to hide my face.

"You don't have to explain anything," he promised, in the soothing voice that I remembered him having when I had first woken in the Chapel. My arms felt tingly where he held them, and then there was that faint golden glow again, emanating from his hands, and flowing into me. He'd cast a Healing spell. I watched the golden light disappearing into my arms, and felt the need to cry receding as the spell filled me.

I hazarded a glance at Martin's face through my hair, and saw no demands; only compassion. Despite my crazy declarations to him in the Chapel, and what must have been an alarming response to him when he had asked me about who I was, he was healing me. Again.

He did not deserve this response from me. I sat back and hurriedly wiped my cheeks with one hand as I let the trickle of his warming magic fill my pit of grief. "No, _I_ am sorry. I am a useless host," I tried to laugh, raising my eyes to him.

The look of concern on his face smoothed out, and a small smile grew in its place. "And I am a useless priest," he said with amusement, as the spell around us faded. "What a pair we make."

I laughed a little again, and sniffed, the tears thankfully gone, wondering at the kindness Martin was showing me. His bearing reminded me much of Ebel's stoic and respectful manner, but he was somehow more. He was much more intense than Ebel had ever been. The thought made my stomach flutter, and I averted my eyes from his, looking out into the room beyond us instead, feeling a little guilty at my comparison. It would not do _either_ of us well if I continued to see Ebel in him.

Martin stood then, and returned to his seat. "Is that a first edition _Dance in Fire_?" he indicated the book I had put down on the table earlier.

I had forgotten about it. "Oh," I looked over the red-bound book and it's delicate gold leaf design, then back up to Martin. His eyes seemed brighter than before.

"Um, I believe so," I was grateful for his change in topic. "It was my father's. All of these were," I indicated the bookshelf in the sitting room. "My mother told me that my father was a bibliophile," I explained. "But most of his collection is in the study," I rose. "Would you like to see it?"

"Very much," he rose too, and followed me out of the sitting room, and up the staircase.

Father's study was just as I remembered it always being. Bookshelves lined all four walls, and each shelf was full, to the brim, with large, heavy old books. In the centre of the room sat three armchairs around a small coffee table, and to the side, nearest the window, was a small, functional desk. I hurried straight to the window to close the curtains, then lit the large lantern on my father's old desk and extended the wick. The golden glow of the flame crept through the room and I turned to observe Martin. He was standing next to one of the shelves, inspecting the spines of the books.

"You have all three volumes of _Feyfolken_ ," he murmured quietly, running his hands along, but not quite touching, a set of old, thick brown tomes. "And," he reached for, but again didn't touch, a set of burgundy books beside it. "Look at this!" he flicked a surprised glance at me, before returning his gaze to the books in question. "A complete...I have never seen a complete set of the _2920_ volumes before."

I smiled at his excitement, unable to help myself, resolving that once we got Martin back to the City and the dragonfires had been relit, I would gift him the set, as a coronation present. I had known him for only a moment, but I had never seen him so enraptured. He looked younger, and at that moment he did not remind me of Ebel at all. His older half-brother had never been this excited – about anything.

"We could read before dinner, if you like?" I offered, moving to him and removing the first volume of the _2920_ series from the shelf. I handed it to him.

He held it reverently, and I turned back to the shelf, selecting _The Refugees_ for myself, at random. I had read it in the Palace library, years ago, and could barely remember it.

Martin was still standing by the bookshelf, staring at the copy of _2920, Morning Star_ in his hands. He seemed frozen in time and I peered up at him.

"Martin?" I caught his attention. "Would you like to take a seat?" I indicated the armchairs in the centre of the room. "And I shall light a few more lanterns for us," I mused, moving to an armchair and placing my book on it.

"Yes, of course," Martin muttered and joined me, also placing his book on a seat, across from mine. He helped me light the lanterns, and soon the room was full of a warm, comfortable yellow glow.

We retreated to the armchairs and read in silence, and I was relieved to have been able to distract us away from conversations I felt I couldn't have yet with him.

Soon enough, the bell rang for dinner.


	7. The Refugees

_There is a Bosmer woman, curled up in pain on a plain bed of fur and straw. She rocks back and forth, muttering incoherently._

_I try to ask her if she is all right, and find that I can't speak. I move to her side and crouch down to her._

_"Mankar," the woman shudders. "He is coming."_

_I reach for the woman's arm, to try and calm her._

_The moment my fingertips brush her skin, her eyes snap to me, the bright green orbs brimming with unshed tears._

_"He is coming!" she says urgently. "He will destroy all!"_

I woke suddenly, to darkness, feeling my heart hammering wildly in my chest. I sighed with relief, blinking a few times as my eyes adjusted to the dimness, and sat up slowly, wondering what time it was.

I remembered the odd dream that had woken me with a grimace, and resolved not to read _The Refugees_ again for a little while, particularly before bed.

Casting aside the covers, I eased my bare feet onto the floor, and walked to the dresser, where there was a bottle of wine. I didn't bother to light the lantern; there was a little moonlight filtering through the windows, and I could see more and more as the time passed.

After pouring myself a glass, I then stoppered the bottle, and brought the glass to my lips, moving to the window. I was bathed in silvery moonlight. Secunda was up.

I sipped the wine, trying to remember the face of the Bosmer woman in my dream, relieved that I had dreamed of a book, and not of the murders in the Imperial City. I had been certain that event would haunt me in sleep as much as it did in my waking state.

I turned away from the window, casting my eyes around my mother's – now my – room. It was still decorated to my mother's taste; lavishly spread with carpets and rich tapestries. Mother had always collected tapestries, just as father had always collected books, before he had died.

My eyes drifted to the darker corners of the room, and I froze, the wine glass halfway to my lips.

There was a human-shaped darkness in the shadows.

A person.

In my room.

_I am bathed in moonlight._

_They have seen me._

I took a breath and moved back to the dresser, keeping half an eye on the figure in the shadows, hoping that since my face had been silhouetted by the moonlight, they didn't know that I had seen them. I placed the wine glass back on the dresser, my hand shaking.

The shadow shifted closer, silently.

I moved back toward the bed, remembering that I had put the silver dagger Caroline had given me in the drawer of the bedside table, along with the two rings that Jauffre had handed me before I'd ridden out to Kvatch.

I couldn't fight at close range, but a dagger would be better than nothing. If the person was just looking to steal from a house he thought was empty, perhaps he would leave, I tried to tell myself.

I sat on the bed, and exhaled shakily. Turning to the end table, the figure was out of my sight for a moment, but I had no choice if I wanted to retrieve the dagger.

I rested my hand on the drawer handle.

"It is such a shame," the figure tutted, his voice low, like a hiss of snow falling on a fire, "that you had to wake."

I whirled around with fear in my throat and watched as the shape in the shadows walked toward me.

"Who is there?" I asked loudly, clearing my throat and hoping to the Nine that Martin had heard me. Gods knew Eyja would not; her room was in the basement, three floors down.

_What if he has already killed Martin?_

"Shhhh," the figure put a gloved hand to the black area of his hood where his face must have been. As he walked past a window, and was bathed in moonlight on one side, I noticed that his robes were a blood-red colour. A giant, golden crest shaped like a sun blared on the breast of the cloak.

I recognised both cloak and symbol. The same had been worn by the Ebel's, and the Emperor's, assassins.

I stood hastily, and despite knowing that he was not a thief, tried anyway. "Please, sir. There are jewels, and Septims, in the chest over there," I pointed in the direction of the chest on the far wall. "More in the safe, in the larder," I added, trying to stop my voice from shuddering as the man came to a halt in front of me and blocked out the moonlight with his frame. "Take...take as much of it as you want."

"I said _hush_ , Lady Passero."

The gloved hand rose, and he trailed the back of his finger down my cheek. "There is but one jewel in this house that interests me."

Tears sprung to my eyes, and I shushed. If I fought, I knew he would hurt me before he killed me. I felt tears falling down my cheeks, silently, but managed not to sob. If I made another noise, I was dead.

In the shadows of his hood I could make out the end of a pointed nose, and the curve of a full, smirking mouth. The man's skin seemed pale, even in the darkness of his clothing.

"You have kept yourself hidden well, little dove," he crooned. "But _I_ knew what you would do," the gloved hand that had been on my cheek continued its downward journey, trailing along my neck, feather-light. His thumb circled my collarbone, then the curve of my shoulder. I felt bared; my nightdress had a wide neck and loose sleeves, with only two thin ribbons looping over my shoulders to keep it up. The hand stopped, and the man wrapped his gloved fingers around my upper arm, squeezing, and my eyes flew open again. He took a step closer to me, and I tried to control my breaths. I could smell something acrid, perhaps leek or onion, on his breath.

"You came home," he whispered, "as I knew you would." The hand that didn't hold my arm fell to his side, where he withdrew a short, silver dagger from a sheath, with a hiss of metal against leather.

I startled at the sound, and the robed assassin tutted again. "It is such a shame," he drawled, drawing the dagger slowly along my nightdress, but not cutting it, stopping the blade when the point was resting on the flesh of my neck. "You _had_ to wake," he leaned his face close to mine, and I could see his eyes in the shadow of his hood. His pupils were dilated in the reduced light, and there was a manic sheen to them. "I could have killed you in your sleep, and you'd have never felt this fear," he crooned. "Of course," his grip on my arm tightened even more, and his gloved thumb rubbed my arm in a slow, intimate circular motion. "It would not have been nearly as entertaining, would it have, little dove?"

The assassin looked into my eyes with gloating satisfaction, and the blade at my neck was withdrawn, slightly. "Why don't you lie down?" he said in a hushed voice, the hand holding my arm directing me back to the bed. "That way I won't have to catch you, when you fall."

I did sob then, as I was pushed by the man down onto my back, and I fell onto the bed. But the sound of my frightened sob was covered by an almighty _CRASH_ that shook me, the room, the furniture, and the windows.

I screamed, ducking down and covering my head with my arms, as a bright, white light flooded the room.

When the light dissipated and I could see again, the assassin was gone. I scurried to the edge of my bed, and saw that he was not gone, only fallen. He was on the floor, twitching, but clearly dead, with smoke rising from his skin. The smell of charred flesh flooded my senses.

I stumbled off the bed and glanced up, staring at the now-open bedroom door.

Martin was there, his hands raised, with a faint, fading white light disappearing from them.

 _He's alive_ , I thought, racing across the room and throwing myself against him, clenching my fists together in front of me and burying my face in his chest. I burst into tears, and they flowed freely – and noisily - now.

Martin held me to him, his arms encircling me. I felt the familiar glow of his Healing spell, emanating from him, as one of his hands, on my head, stroked my hair.

"Martin," I sobbed, quaking in his arms. "He was going to kill me!"

"You are safe now," he replied quietly, his voice a shaky, low rumble in my ear.

The Emperor's slackened face, and then Ebel's, with the sun drawn from his blood on his forehead, swam before me; a reminder I did not need at that moment. I choked on another sob, clenching my eyes and fists closed harder to make them go away, but it only made me cry more.

The hand on my head kept stroking my hair as the Healing magic flowed from him. His other arm held me securely to him, gathering the thin material of my nightdress in his fist as he renewed his hold and exhaled slowly. I could feel him shaking as well.

I _had_ to stop crying, I told myself. I was supposed to be saving Martin, not the other way around!

I calmed myself down by focussing on the feel of Martin's hands, and the Healing magic flowing from them. My whole body shook as I breathed unevenly.

But his spell slowly eased the shock, which made it easier to stop crying. When I could breathe without sobbing, I drew back from him and held the door frame, wiping my eyes hurriedly. They felt sore, and swollen.

He lay his hands lightly on my forearms, and ducked down to my level. His eyes were determined, and somewhat dangerous. "Will you be all right here, for a moment?" he asked quietly.

I nodded, my lower lip quivering, but no more tears came. He nodded in reply, his mouth forming a grim line.

He strode into my bedroom without another word.

I heard everything. I kept my eyes trained to the floor, tracing the pattern of the woodgrain in the floorboards. I heard Martin cast some sort of spell, that created more light, and then the air smelled sharper, somehow. I heard him moving around the room; a scrape of metal against wood. I heard him unlatch the window, then close it again.

I knew that the assassin would be gone, and took a deep breath, so that I could be steady when I walked back into my room.

Martin was replacing a large, silver platter that had been on the bedside table when I did. The place where the assassin had lain, dead and twitching only a moment ago, was clear, but for a fine layer of dust.

I stared at what remained of the man who had been sent to kill me, and wondered what Martin had done to the body.

Then Martin was in front of me, holding out the glass of wine I had been drinking earlier, and it was full again.

"Drink this," he said, in the tone of a healer looking after his patient. "It will help."

I took the cup gratefully, and drank a mouthful of the deep red liquid, watching Martin all the while.

He looked completely composed. How was he able to stay so calm?

I lowered the cup and swallowed. "How did you know I needed help?"

"I heard your voice," he replied quickly, shuffling a little and casting his eyes to the window. "I assumed you couldn't sleep either, and thought to keep you company. I had no idea you were in trouble, until I reached the third floor and heard him."

I hesitated, trying to find anything to talk about other than the attack. "You couldn't sleep?" I asked him, then took another sip of wine.

Martin shrugged a little, then spoke in a voice of reason. "When I sleep, I dream of Kvatch, consumed by flames, and other cities - places I've only read about, falling in the same way. I didn't want to see that again tonight."

I nodded, feeling small and helpless. "Can..." I stared around the room. I didn't want to be here any more. Or alone. "Can we go back to the study?" I asked quickly.

"Of course," he motioned for me to lead the way. I nodded in thanks to him, leaving the bedroom and resting my hand shakily on the railing. I descended the stairs to the second floor, and opened the door to the study hurriedly.

It was dark, and I paused in the doorway, wondering if another assassin was waiting for us here, in the shadows.

 _The Tower is compromised_ , a memory of Caroline spoke in my mind.

I startled as Martin strode past me and cast a little ball of light from his hand, just like Caroline had done in the tunnels out of the Tower. Bright, white light flooded the study, leaving no corners hidden.

Nobody else was there.

I breathed a sigh of relief that I didn't realise I'd been holding, and stepped into the room, as Martin's spell faded, and he lit a lantern instead.

I closed the door behind us, then locked it, and hurried to the window, making sure the latch was in place. It was.

Martin took the seat he had sat in before dinner, and immediately picked up the copy of _2920_ he had been reading then. I wondered how he could see the words in the dim lighting, or focus on anything at all after what had happened.

I sat and took another sip of my wine, my eyes on him for a moment. His thick brown hair half fell over his eyes as he turned his head down, and he cradled the book with one arm. I realised he was clean-shaven – he must have dealt with his stubble when he'd retired to the guest room for the night. His bare feet rested flat against the floor, and he was wearing the clothes that he had selected from the charity box at the Chapel – long brown trousers, a plain tan-coloured tunic. I bit my bottom lip, wishing I had thought to offer him some bed clothes. Some of my father's old things were still in the basement.

He did not look like a priest. Or an Emperor. He looked...like a man. But he was no ordinary man. And he'd just saved my life, again.

I averted my eyes, staring down into my half-empty wine glass. The deep red liquid looked black from this angle.

We had to leave Skingrad, as soon as I felt steadier, I resolved. I needed to get Martin away from this house. Keeping him safe was all that mattered.

He had no idea of the danger he was in, and it was my fault.

I had to tell him. Whether I was grieving or not, and whether he believed me or not, he had to be made aware of what had happened, and of the task ahead of us.

Martin turned a page in the book, and I cleared my throat.

"Martin?"

He looked up.

I swallowed, placing my wine glass on the coffee table, and folded my hands together, drawing my feet up under me. I wondered how to begin, as I looked down at my hands.

"That man..." I trailed off.

Martin cut in. "You don't need to talk about it."

"No," I said hurriedly, raising my eyes to his. "I do."

Martin's mouth formed a straight line, but he closed the book in his hands and didn't reply.

"The reason that man was here," I started again. "The reason he...wanted to kill me," I made myself say, and exhaled slowly, "was because I have been, since I was ten, a member of the Septim household. My name – my full name," I added, "Is Sarina Passero. But in less than two weeks time, had the red assassins not come, I would have become a Septim."

I talked and Martin listened. I told him of how I had been betrothed to Ebel, and how we were to be married on my birthday. I told him of how Caroline and I had found Ebel that day, in the Tower, and how Caroline had killed an assassin wearing the same robes as the man that had been about to kill me. I told him about escaping from the White-Gold Tower; about Captain Renault, Baurus, and the Emperor; his father. I told him of his father's dying words.

Each time the memories became too much, I paused, and reminded myself to be brave. Brave for the people who had fallen, and brave for the people who had saved me. Once or twice the suggestion was helped along with a sip of wine.

When I had finished, I met Martin's gaze steadily and waited.

He didn't storm out of the room. He looked pale, but not angry.

"Such strange, terrible secrets you carry," he spoke finally, rising to his feet and placing _2920: Morning Star_ on the coffee table carefully. "But I understand...you, now, at least. Thank you," he added, standing before me.

He held his hand out to me, and I just looked at it.

"We need to leave at once," he told me.

"It is still night," I replied, looking to the window, despite the curtains being securely closed. "Won't it be safer to travel once the sun has risen?"

"The sun is not far from rising, and it will be safer to travel in the shadows. Once we have dressed it will be light enough for it to be acceptable to appear at the stables."

I took Martin's hand and rose. "All right."

I moved for the door, then hesitated, realising that I would have to walk into _that_ room, to dress. I looked back over my shoulder at Martin, uncertain of what to say, or what to ask of him. I didn't want to be left in there by myself, but I couldn't ask him to watch over me while I changed.

Martin was standing by the seat I'd occupied a moment ago. "Do you...will you be all right?"

"Could you wait by the door?" I asked in a small voice, feeling a little ashamed.

"Of course," Martin replied in a kind voice that calmed me immensely.

I breathed a little easier when Martin followed me up the stairs, and we both stuck our heads into my room when we reached the third floor. Martin cast a glowing ball of light into it from his palm, which was larger, and brighter, than the Candlelight spell. A full Magelight. The ball of light stuck to the roof of the bedroom.

I thanked him as I stepped into the room, and Martin stepped out. I paused, listening, as I heard his feet shuffling on the floorboards. Then he leaned against the wall, next to the door, out of sight.

Using the Magelight while I could, I hurried to my mother's wardrobe, flinging it open, and withdrew an armload of clothes at random. I lay them on the bed and raked my eyes over what I had grabbed. My eyes automatically drifted to the ash beside the bed, and I shook myself, determinedly turning back to the task at hand. We were leaving. _Focus._

The clothes were a little more lavish than those I'd been provided with at Weynon Priory. I cast off my night dress, threw on some clean undergarments, then stretched into white stockings, dark brown fitted trousers, a long-sleeved, dark green under-tunic, and a calf-length green brocade doublet. I tied and tightened the doublet hastily, relieved to note that my hands were no longer shaking, then hurried to the bedside table, retrieving Caroline's dagger and Jauffre's rings. I put a ring on each of my middle fingers, tucked the dagger into a small sheath on the leather belt of the doublet, then raced to my mother's dressing table, grabbing the first piece of ribbon I found – a wide red one.

 _Mother would be so mad if she knew I was raiding her room like a wild thing_ , I thought to myself as I tied my curls back into a messy ponytail.

 _She'll never know_ , I reminded myself.

On impulse, I grabbed a gold chain on her dresser, on which hung a large gold signet ring with the symbol of a dove holding an olive branch set into the front in ebony. It was the Passero seal – my father's ring. Mother had always worn it around her neck, and out of sight, since he had died, but had used it to seal her letters. It was mine now, and had been since she had passed away; I'd just never thought to retrieve it.

I fastened it around my neck and tucked it into the doublet as I raced to the chest where she kept her shoes. "You can come in now, Martin," I called out to him, pawing through the shoe chest, looking for mother's old black riding boots. I found them near the bottom, under a pile of suede slippers. They were long, and would reach up to my knees, but they would fit, as mother and I were the same size.

When I sat on the bed, Martin was standing in the doorway. I eased into a boot. "I am ready," I told him as I settled my other foot into the second boot, then stood.

He nodded in acknowledgement. "Gather some food for the journey. I don't think we should stop like this again," he advised.

I agreed, hurrying out and closing the door behind me on the room, and its secrets. Martin was close behind me as we descended the stairs, but stopped at the second floor.

I stopped with him, giving him a questioning glance. He indicated that I should proceed, and moved toward the guest room. "Get some food. I will dress, and meet you in the entryway, in a moment."

My eyes widened as they glanced at his room, and then back to him. "What if someone's waiting for you in there?" I asked in a rush.

Martin raised his hands, wearing an echo of a smile on his face. "Then I will be ready."

I swallowed and looked at his hands; raised and ready to cast a spell.

 _He's such a strong mage_ , I thought in wonder. I had thought priests only studied the non-destructive spells from the school of Restoration, but the spell Martin had cast into my bedroom earlier had been some powerful form of sparks. He hadn't been joking when he'd told me he could defend himself.

Martin went into the room. I waited, and listened. When all I heard were the sounds of him moving about, I descended the stairs, and rushed into the kitchen.

I would have to leave a note for Eyja, I realised. She would be worried when she rose and found we had departed already.

I found some parchment and a quill in the larder, which Eyja was using to record items she would need to restock from the marketplace on, and tore a section from the bottom of it.

 _"Eyja,"_ I wrote, _"Take the money from the chest in my bedroom, and leave the house for a few weeks. Visit your mother,"_ her mother lived in Bruma. _"The house is no longer safe,"_ I felt compelled to add. _"I will write you when it is safe to return."_

I left it unsigned, and dropped both note and quill onto the kitchen table, where she would be sure to find it when she came to put the water on for the tea.

Then I raced back into the larder, collected a knapsack from a shelf, and stuffed it with food and a few bottles of mead.

 _I'm sorry, Eyja_ , I thought sadly, as I frantically packed. I had said to Martin last night that I could not have imagined Rosethorn Hall without her. And now I was making her leave.


	8. Elenglynn

"We should travel to the Priory through the woods," Martin said in a hushed voice. We walked along side each other on the road from the stables, he leading Patch, and I leading my mother's dark brown stallion, Tor.

I hesitated as we reached the junction in the road, turning back to look upon Skingrad in the shifting greys and fogs of pre-dawn. I bit my bottom lip anxiously, wondering how long it would be before the stable master's wife told the whole town about us, and which direction we had gone in.

Perhaps that was why Martin was suggesting that we leave the road.

"Perhaps that would be better," I replied, just as quietly. "But it will be slower," I frowned, as I brought Tor to a halt, and secured the satchel of food onto the back of his saddle. Tor beat his hoof against the earthen road, snorting impatiently.

"Easy, Tor," I crooned to him.

Martin flashed Tor a wary glance as he secured his own satchel to Patch. In it was his monk's robes and shoes, and some more food I'd given him. He was wearing different trousers but the same tunic from earlier, sturdy leather boots that we'd bought from the stable master, and the Kvatch armour. His hair was secured at the back of his neck with a thin strip of leather, and he had an old sword of my father's on a belt that hung over the armour and sat low on his waist, despite his protests that he had no idea how to use it.

But they would not be looking for a Kvatch guard, I had pointed out to him, as we had prepared to leave.

I finished tying the satchel, tightened the saddle straps, and mounted Tor. I gasped as I adjusted the bow and quiver over my shoulders, and the green cloak so I wasn't sitting on it, realising how much larger Tor was than Patch - how much taller. Even after Martin, who was at least two heads taller than I, had mounted Patch, I was looking down on him.

Martin gave Tor that uneasy look again as he settled himself, and shuffled the sword belt a little so it would rest more comfortably. "Are you certain you wouldn't rather ride Patch, Sarina?" he asked.

I shook my head in amusement, grabbing the reigns with one hand and reaching down to pat Tor's flank with the other. "It's all right, Tor," I said to the horse. "You ignore mean old Martin."

Tor snorted and shook his head, making me laugh a little. The laugh made me feel lighter.

Martin shook his head as though he thought I was a mad woman again, and pressed his heels into Patch's flank, directing her into the woods. I glanced either side of us, down the road.

Nobody was on it. But then, it was still very early. The sun had not yet risen, though it would soon; the horizon was lined with pink and gold clouds.

I clicked my heels into Tor's sides, and followed Martin into the trees. He lead us through the forests north, making a bee-line for the Priory, as far as I could tell. I wondered how he could know where he was going, then realised that he'd probably made the journey to Weynon Priory many times from Kvatch, to visit Jauffre, perhaps even straight through these same forests on the path we were taking now.

We travelled in silence for most of the morning, our own thoughts for company, with the horses moving through the undergrowth and birdsong the only sounds. Our pace was slower than I would have liked it to be, but I couldn't help but enjoy the moment of peace for what it was. The forests north of Skingrad reminded me of my childhood, before I'd been sent to my duty in the City, and the air was warm and comforting, smelling of earth and fresh leaves and wildflowers.

The sun was high the sky when Martin turned and called back to me.

"Sarina," he said, with a sort of reverence to his tone. "Look," he turned back in the saddle, and pointed ahead of us.

I peered curiously beyond Martin and Patch. I caught sight of something smooth, white, and large, in between the trees.

"What is that?" I asked.

Martin steered Patch toward it. "Elenglynn," he replied. "An Ayleid ruin."

My eyes flickered to the whiteness again and a breath unwittingly caught in my throat. The Ayleids had built the White-Gold Tower, but I had never happened upon an Ayleid structure in the woods before.

Though, when had I ever been granted leave to wander through the woods?

I eased Tor's reigns to the left, to follow the new path Martin was taking toward the ruin.

"Let's stop here and rest the horses, and eat something," Martin called back over his shoulder as we grew nearer.

I nodded but didn't reply. The form of the ruin was clearer now. It was constructed almost entirely of the white stone that I had spotted through the trees, in tall, segmented arches and columns, and despite its state of disrepair, its construction reminded me of the place I had called home for the past eight years. More white stone littered the ground, in squares overgrown with moss and scattered with fallen leaves.

Martin drew Patch to a halt near a grand statue of a beautiful woman with enormous, delicately-carved wings. The statue was weathered smooth in places, and creepers of Morning Glory and Viper's Bugloss wound their way around the cracks and joins.

I stopped Tor and dismounted, taking in the sight of the statue. The weathered face of the woman – an Ayleid woman, I assumed – was downcast, and looked sad, not proud or haughty, as the history books made the Ayleids out to be.

"Who is she?" I asked Martin as he stepped beside me, and turned his eyes up to the statue. He was carrying his satchel in front of him.

Martin shrugged. "Who knows?" he regarded her for a moment longer, and I watched his expression change to one of resignation, as he shook his head at himself and looked down to the pack in his arms. "Elenglynn is beautiful, but it always makes me feel sad."

I nodded, understanding. The place had a bittersweet feel to it.

I turned and sat on the short, round base of the statue, as Martin deposited his satchel there and opened the strings.

"You have been here before?" I asked.

Martin nodded, withdrawing a few apples from the satchel. He walked over and fed them Patch and then Tor, with evident wariness as he stretched the food out to my mother's steed.

I laughed at his expression. "You don't need worry about Tor," I shifted to the satchel, and started retrieving food out for us. "He was my mother's," I added. "She made certain that he was broken by Cyrodiil's most reputable, skilled trainers."

Martin dusted his hands off as he walked back to me. " _Broken_ is not a word I would use to describe that horse," he muttered. "He looks as though he could take on an army of Orcs, by himself."

I smiled in amusement, handing Martin a sweetroll, and setting down a loaf of bread and some ham and a tomatoes between us. "He probably could," I replied, considering, only half meaning it, and half teasing. "Lucky you are not an Orc."

"Or you," he added pointedly, as he sat on the edge of the statue, eating the roll and keeping his thoughtful eyes on Tor. The apple gone, my mother's horse was now grazing on the long grass around the ruin, close to Patch. He really did somewhat dwarf Prior Maborel's little mare.

I sat back and stretched my legs out in front of me, massaging the muscles of my calves and thighs. I had been used to riding in the City, as Ebel and I had ridden out nearly every day to hunt and practise with our bows. But I wasn't used to quite _this much_ riding or walking, or running, or lack of decent sleep.

"Oh," Martin sat up a little when he saw what I was doing. "Are you in pain?"

I shook my head, motioning for him to remain where he was, and sat up properly again. "Just a little tired," I retrieved a bottle of mead and took a small sip from it. "I have ridden and walked more in the past few days than I usually would have in a fortnight," I explained.

"Let me help," he placed his half-eaten roll on top of the satchel and rose, to stand in front of me.

"Please, Martin - eat," I shook my head. "You've been healing me for days," I added wearily, with a small, apologetic smile. "I will wear you out."

"It is the least I can do. Trust me, I'm fine," Martin wasn't deterred and knelt in front of me, placing his hands underneath my legs, where the tops of the boots rested over my calves.

I tried not to flush at his ease and comfort in touching me, and stared at him, watching him work as his hands started to glow with that increasingly-familiar golden coloured light. The gentle tinkling sound that accompanied Healing spells followed his actions shortly after. The tightness in my body began to let go, and my calves felt lighter for it.

 _I do trust you, don't I_ , I thought with a sigh, as I continued to watch his face as he worked his craft.

His eyes were focussed, and trained on my legs, where his hands held them, and there was a small crease between his eyebrows.

Of course I trusted him.

He had been with me when I had emerged from Oblivion, whether I remembered those two days after the ordeal or not. He had been there when I had woken, and continued to heal me.

Martin's hands ghosted along the back of my calves, and paused for a moment at the bend in my knees, before shifting higher, along the backs of my thighs. The glow of his Healing spell eased the ache I felt there, and I suppressed a shiver.

He had saved me from the cloaked assassin. Held me until I'd stopped crying. Disposed of the body. Sat up with me, and listened to my story.

 _If Martin isn't careful_ , I thought, my breath catching, _I will come to rely on him_. I reached forward, wanting to smooth the crease from his brow.

_Perhaps even fall in love with him._

My eyes fluttered and I withdrew my hand to my chest, before it reached him. I wanted to slap myself as the thought pounced on me.

 _What do you think this is_ , I scolded myself?

"Th-thank you," I told him hurriedly, shifting my eyes off him and grabbing the first thing that swam into my view – the bottle of mead to my side. I shifted my legs a little as I turned for it, breaking the contact between us, and felt an alarming pang of regret at the loss. The glow of Martin's spell faded on the edges of my vision, as my cheeks flared.

"Do you feel any better?" he asked, and I saw him rise and dust his hands on the front of his trousers.

I nodded, meeting his eyes as I took a small sip from the bottle. He seemed to be full of concern, and flushed as well, from exertion.

I lowered the bottle, feeling wretched from my childish reaction. "Yes, very much so," I said, hoping that he missed the slight shake in my voice, and couldn't hear the galloping of my heart. "You have such a wonderful talent," I babbled. "Who taught you so much magic?"

I had known Martin for a day or two, and _I trusted him completely_ and that terrified me.

 _He is a priest! Of course I trust him_ , I reasoned. _We're taught to trust them. It's only natural._

I had been betrothed to his half-brother less than a week ago; his half-brother who would not touch me at all.

 _You never needed Ebel_ , a small voice at the back of my mind reminded me. _And you never loved him, never wanted his touch._

 _Stop it_ , my mother's voice pushed at my panicking thoughts and commanded that I focus. _Martin is a priest, and soon, he will be the Emperor. Why would a man with such power need you, who is of so little use to anybody?_

I frowned, and had to agree with the words my mother's voice had thrown at me, as I remembered how I had cowered, shaken and cried, unable to defend myself against the assassin in the early hours of the morning.

"Father Jauffre, mostly," Martin re-took his seat on the base of the statue, unaware of my inner arguments. He picked up some of the food between us and resumed eating. "He is an excellent teacher."

I barely heard his answer, and nodded, my thoughts on my internal conversation.

 _I did not do so badly in Oblivion_ , I told myself with a grimace. Yes, it had been much easier to defend myself there. But then, daedra didn't skulk in the shadows. They ran, straight at you, and we're noisy about it. I had shot them before they got too close, so I hadn't needed to rely on strength to fight them.

 _Except when it counted_ , I reminded myself, as I thought of Ilend rushing forward with a scream to draw the Dremora off the platform, so I could remove the Sigil stone.

I shook the memory away. I had to look forward. Once this was all over, I would ask Caroline to teach me to fight, I resolved. I couldn't keep relying on others to save me all the time.

"Jauffre?" I replied, picking up a piece of bread and dressing it with a segment of tomato and some of the meat. "He seems to know a lot of magic, too," I mused, relieved that my voice no longer shook when I spoke. "He cast an Alteration spell on me, the day I rode for Kvatch." I added, then nibbled at the crust of the bread.

"Is that why your hair and eyes were a different colour when we found you?" Martin asked.

I nodded, feeling a little more settled. "He was worried that I would be recognised, and..."

There was a silence between us.

"It turned out he was right to worry," Martin said after a moment.

"I suppose so," I sighed.

We ate in silence for a little while. I stared up through the trees, at the ruin, and my thoughts wandered to the Ayleids, and what little they had left behind after they had fallen to Alessia, the Slave Queen; Martin's ancestor.

Martin and I discussed Jauffre's magic lessons a little more as we ate, and then talked about the Ayleids a bit, too. Soon enough though, we, and the horses, were rested, and it was time to continue our journey north.


	9. The Priory Falls

The woods grew dark early, and Martin cast a small, bobbing Candlelight to guide us on our final approach to Weynon Priory.

I was relieved that my task was nearly complete, and Cyrodiil was nearly safe. Perhaps life would go back to normal soon.

Well, as normal as it could ever be, now. Without Ebel, my life would be forever changed.

What would I do now there was no place for me in the Imperial City, I wondered? Return to Rosethorn Hall?

 _That would probably be best_ , I thought, as I made myself consider my future; for the first time with no mother or Princes or Blades to forge the path for me. The very idea that I could decide what to do next was profound, almost indulgent.

First I would contact Eyja, I decided, and then hire a few more staff to keep the house running efficiently. I would ask Caroline if she could continue on, not only as my bodyguard, but also to teach me how to fight – a promise to myself that I was determined to keep. I would hire some tutors, so I could continue my studies. I would attend parties, and perhaps even host a few, once things were settled.

A new thought presented itself to me. Once the threat of Dagon rising was over, would I ever see Martin again? The prospect that I might not made my chest ache, though I had little time to consider the matter before Martin broke our silence.

"What...Sarina, can you smell that?" Martin held his hand up for us to stop; the Candlelight spell bobbing like a firefly around his palm.

I pulled on Tor's reigns so he would halt, then stilled, watching Martin, and listening. I sniffed the air.

Smoke.

He seemed to be listening as well. Then, with a flick of his wrist, his Candlelight was extinguished, and he dismounted Patch.

I followed, climbing down off Tor as my heart leapt into my throat.

 _Please, no more assassins_ , I begged. They could not have found out about the Priory. Could they?

Martin and I steadily lead the horses on foot to a place we could tie them, close to the woods edge. As we neared the Priory, I could see flames through the trees, and the smoke grew thicker the closer we drew. The sound of the crackling flames that had taken hold of the Priory buildings was overshadowed by the sounds of steel against steel, and shouting. The sounds of battle. Through the patchy smoke, I started to be able to make out people in Blades armour, fighting others in long robes; the redness of the fabric glowing where the firelight hit it. Some of the robed men and women were wearing segmented armour over their robes, and others held staffs of gnarled wood in front of them as they shot spells at the Blades.

Martin glanced at me, and I saw that his face was grim. I know my expression mirrored his, as I pulled my bow off my shoulder, and reached for an arrow. Martin raised his hands to fire with me, but before he could charge a spell, I put my arm across him, and shook my head when he met my eye. He looked at me questioningly.

I leaned up to him. "You will give away our position," I whispered into his ear, so he could hear me over the fighting, and so we wouldn't risk being heard ourselves by anyone who might be near. I turned back to the battle scene, nocking my arrow in the bow.

I pulled the string taut, exhaling as I aimed, targeting a robed fighter with a mace, who was bombarding the shield of a Blade fighter. I loosed my arrow, and despite the assassin shifting while my arrow soared through the air, it found his leg. It shocked him enough that it gave the Blade he had been advancing on enough time to counter the attack.

I was drawing another arrow, scanning the scene for my next target, when I felt Martin lean in, close to my ear.

"I cannot watch this and do nothing while people fight and die," he whispered, clearly agitated, then raised his hands again. I saw the spark of a destructive spell charging between his palms.

I lowered my bow and reached over his arms again. " _No_ , Martin, please. You are too important," I hissed. "If they find you, _all_ is lost."

Martin looked torn, but the spell dissipated again.

I turned back and notched my second arrow. When I loosed this time, it found its target; the back of one of the robed assassins, who was fighting a Blade warrior with daggers. I saw that the Blade was startled by the intervention, for a second, but then raced forward and finished the assassin off.

As I drew a third arrow from my quiver, Martin put his hand over my bow-arm this time, leaning down to my ear again, and speaking urgently. "I can help them - I _must_ help them. Stay hidden."

Before I could respond, Martin ran forward, crashing through the tree line with his hands raised, and destruction spells flaring out of them.

"No!" I screamed, breaking through onto the road after him, stopping only to raise my bow and fire at a robed man running toward Martin from one side. The arrow struck its mark and the assassin fell; I ran onward, to catch up to Martin.

"Head for the Chapel!" I yelled to him.

He saw me but didn't reply, as he cast a wave of fresh sparks from his hands, felling a robed woman who'd been running at us. I lifted my bow again as I reached his side, and notched an arrow quickly, turning to look for attackers as Martin hurried on.

I made sure I kept close to him. While Martin cleared our way to the Chapel, I kept my bow raised and my eyes keen, covering the area behind Martin that he couldn't see, and firing at any threats before they drew too close to us. After toppling a red-robed assassin carrying a greatsword, I noticed a figure by the well in the Priory courtyard, face-down on the ground and unmoving, in a monk's habit. It could be only one of three people, and it didn't look like Jauffre.

Sadness washed over me and I made myself avert my eyes and ready my next shot. Martin reached the Chapel, turned, and yelled "Come on!" back to me.

I lowered my bow and ran for the door. Martin fired flames in my direction, and I dodged and ducked when I saw them coming. The scream behind me confirmed that the intended target had been hit, and I shuddered as I wondered how close they had been to me.

I leaped into the Chapel and aimed my bow in front of us, arrow at the ready. There was no fighting inside, so I lowered it swiftly, but kept the arrow in it, as Martin raced up the stairs in the direction of Jauffre's office.

The door was closed. Smoke was snaking through the cracks around it and the door frame.

Martin tried the handle.

"Jauffre?!" he called urgently when it didn't open.

I pressed my ear to the door. The sounds of crackling fire, steel on steel, and shouting. "Martin, someone's in there!" I tried the handle for myself, only to find it was locked.

Martin shifted me behind him and shielded me with his arm, as a flare of fire burst out of his other hand. The sound of the spell roared in my ears, and then stopped as suddenly as it had started, and Martin let go of me, surging forward.

When I turned to the door, now blackened around its hinges, Martin was ramming his shoulder into it to force it open. I winced as he made contact with the wood; it looked painful.

"Jauffre!" he called out, trying to beat the door down as he threw his weight into it again.

It cracked a little, around one of the hinges that he'd weakened with the fire spell. It would be enough.

I raced forward to help. Martin and I pushed at the wood around the broken hinge. It gave way slowly under our weight, and finally with a _CRASH,_ the door came off at both of its hinges and splintered inwards.

Smoke poured out of the room. Martin ignored it and ran in with his hands raised and ready to attack. I stood at the entrance, drawing my bow, and searched the room as the smoke rushed past me, stinging my eyes. I couldn't help but raise the back of my hand to my mouth to try and block the smoke as I coughed and raked my watering eyes over the scene before me.

There was fighting beyond Jauffre's desk, in front of the great stained-glass window of Talos. It was as though the Divine was watching over the struggle underneath him. The desk was on fire, and another fire was spreading quickly, along one of the bookshelves.

Jauffre was in Blades armour, fighting a red-robed assassin who was wearing the grey platemetal armour that some of those outside wore. Both were swinging swords furiously.

"Go! Get out!" Jauffre shouted as he spotted Martin.

The assassin turned his head to see Martin, too, and at that instant, agilely leaped up and out of Jauffre's reach, landing on the window ledge in front of the depiction of Talos.

I waited until his feet settled on the stone ledge, and fired my bow the moment they did. It struck him in the leg. The assassin didn't seem to feel it, though he looked straight at me; the blackness where his face was hidden honing in on me. At once I froze, as the memory of the shadowed assassin in my bedroom swam before my eyes.

Before I became lost in the memory, a crackling sound revived me – Martin had cast a shock spell. The assassin must have heard the air crackling in time, though, and stepped sideways, out of its way.

The sparks spell hit where the assassin had been a moment ago, shattering the stained-glass window. I leaped at the sound, and saw Jauffre and Martin put their arms over their heads to shelter from the coloured glass fragments raining down around them.

"Stop him!" Jauffre yelled, as the night air rushed into the building and the fire whipped along the bookshelves in a roaring rush. I felt the flutter of cool night air against my cheeks and raised my readied bow, exhaled, and released the arrow.

I wasn't fast enough. The assassin leaped out of the window, and my arrow sailed through the air, shooting high into the sky.

I hurried forward to Jauffre, who had hurried to Martin's side. "He has the Amulet!" he yelled furiously.

I paled and looked to the gaping space where the window, and the assassin, had been. _No._ Without the Amulet, we couldn't relight the dragonfires; couldn't bring an end to this.

I raced away from them, dragging a chair to the window ledge and climbing up onto it.

"What are you doing?" Jauffre asked me fiercely.

I ignored him as I stepped up onto the ledge, drawing my bow and searching for the assassin. There was not much fighting going on in the courtyard now, but the fire had taken complete hold of the common house and the flames churned and buffeted in the breeze.

"Stop that man!" I cried out, spotting him finally; the only robed and armoured assassin who was running away from the battle. "Stop him at all costs!"

I fired my arrow, but he must have heard it coming, because he dodged at the last second, and then disappeared into the trees.

"He's gone into the woods!" I called. "Someone after him!"

A few Blades ran after him at once, and I readied another arrow, but before any of them reached the edge of the woods, another sound rent the air; the unmistakable scream of a furious horse.

Tor broke through the trees at a gallop, with the assassin on his back, leaning down and spurring my mother's horse on.

"He's on Tor!" I whirled around and told Martin in horror, as I climbed down from the ledge.

Martin turned and sped out of the room without a word. Jauffre was a step behind him, somewhat limping, calling out and asking Martin what he thought he was doing.

I hurried after them, pushing past the limping Jauffre, a part of me feeling – _knowing_ – that we were too late. Tor had been the fastest horse my mother had owned. Unless there was another like him in the Priory stables – and I doubted it, since I had not seen any horse but Patch there the day I had ridden out – we would never catch him.

Outside, the Blades were chasing a few remaining, fleeing assassins from the Priory grounds, cutting them down before they reached the boundary. Martin and I ignored them and ran for the road, searching for the assassin on Tor.

Martin halted at the top of a crest in the road, his eyes trained east. I stopped next to him, panting as I tried to catch my breath, and in the distance could make out the dark shadow of a horse moving quickly in the direction of the Imperial City.

The Amulet was gone.

–

"Jauffre will know what to do," Martin said, turning back toward the Priory and breaking into a run.

I raced after him. When we reached the courtyard, I noticed a few Blades gathering in its centre; some battered and blood spattered and others wincing as they held their arms or legs or sides. Some were checking over those who had fallen, and those unscathed were putting out the fire with water being drawn from the well.

As my gaze drifted over the well, I spotted the fallen priest in the dust, again, and recognised it to be Prior Maborel. I slowed to a halt near his body, frowning, and sadness washed through me again at the senseless loss of a kind soul.

How had this happened? Why had they attacked _him_? Who _were_ these people?

Martin was speaking to Jauffre in the doorway, and I turned up to watch the exchange at the sound of his voice. Jauffre was listening to Martin with a dark look on his face; his hand surrounded by the golden glow of a Healing spell, which he cast directly on the leg he'd been limping on earlier.

I left the fallen priest, and walked over to join them. I could do nothing for Prior Maborel now; nothing that could change his fate.

"...riding to the east, toward the Imperial City," Martin was saying when I arrived. He sounded bitter. "Tor is an enormous beast of a horse," he added. "There will be no catching him now."

Jauffre nodded with a scowl, as he took his eyes off Martin, to let them rove around the destruction in the courtyard. "Both of you, come with me," he grated in a low, dangerous voice.

Martin and I stepped back to let Jauffre by. There was no sign of the limp now. He made for the stables; the only part of the Priory, as far as I could see, that didn't seem to be at least partially still on fire.

Jauffre stepped into one of the empty horse stalls, and pulled Martin into a hug.

"Martin," he started, relieved. "I am so glad to see that you are alive," he stepped back. Martin seemed slightly bemused by the Grandmaster's actions. "Days passed, and when there was no word of Lady Passero, or anything from Kvatch, I feared the worst had occurred."

"I'm sorry, Jauffre," I spoke up. "I wasn't fast enough. There was an Oblivion gate, which I had to close before I could reach Martin. And then...an assassin," I cast my eyes down.

I realised after I said _assassin_ that if only we had ridden straight back to the Priory, instead of stopping in Skingrad for the night, we would have likely been back in time to save the Amulet. And Prior Maborel.

Jauffre sounded concerned, but addressed Martin. "You were attacked?"

"Not I," Martin grumbled. "Sarina."

I looked back up at Martin, hoping he would leave it at that.

"How did you escape, Sire?" Jauffre questioned hurriedly.

"It was taken care of," Martin added shortly. "We weren't followed."

Then he seemed to realise what Jauffre had called him. "And...don't call me that."

Jauffre shook his head again. "I am calling you what you are, and you had better get used to it," he said plainly, but somewhat gravely. "Cyrodiil will look to you as their beacon of hope in the dark days to come, and you cannot deny them that because you are afraid."

I could not believe how direct Jauffre was being with Martin, but then reminded myself that Jauffre had probably been counselling the man for most of his life.

Martin looked agitated, as he raked one of his hands through the hair that had fallen free during the fight. In the process, he smudged a smear of ash across his forehead. I was reminded of how little he looked or acted like a priest, or an Emperor, yet again.

"I don't understand, any of this," he muttered. "It sounds like a ballad, or a...a sick joke being played out by a Daedric Prince. How can I be heir to the Septim dynasty?" he fired at Jauffre. "How could you have kept this from me? Did my father know?"

I bit my bottom lip and raised a hand to Martin's arm before Jauffre could answer, trying to comfort him. I noticed Jauffre's eyes flicker to my hand as I placed it, but ignored his stare. Jauffre didn't know what had happened between us; not the full of it. Martin had done much to ease and console me, many times in the short time we had known one another, and I felt a yearning to do the same in kind for him.

"I didn't believe the Emperor had another son when I was first told, either," I admitted. His despairing blue eyes found mine, and his face was a picture of distress. "But," I continued, "the _moment_ I saw you, I believed," I squeezed his arm a little, encouragingly. "The rest of Cyrodiil will believe too, I _know_ it."

Jauffre was less sentimental. "There is no use complaining about what is right or fair," he spoke up. "It is what it is. Now, come, enough of this. We have to plan our next move. The battle is _far_ from won."

I lowered my hand and stepped forward, while Martin hung back, to lean against the wall of the stable cell.

"But," I asked, " _is_ there anything we can do now? Even with a Septim, the dragonfires will remain extinguished unless we have the Amulet of Kings."

"That is correct," Jauffre said as though he was congratulating a pupil. "But we might keep Mehrunes Dagon at bay a while longer," he added.

I looked to Martin for his reaction, but his eyes were trained on Jauffre and his expression was blank.

When he didn't ask the question, I did. "How?"

Jauffre's eyes glanced off Martin, to focus on me again.

"After you left for Kvatch, and I sent my letters to summon the Blades, I did some research," he explained. "For if you did not retrieve Martin in time, I needed to know what might happen in the days to come."

Something about his wording made me wonder if Jauffre had sent me out to my death, and that lead me to wondering if he had known about the Oblivion gate in Kvatch before he'd asked me to retrieve Martin. Had his sending me been a test, to see if what the Emperor had said to me was true? But, how could he have risked my failing to return with Martin?

"I discovered that as long as the dragonfires are extinguished, and there is no Septim on the throne, more and more Oblivion Gates will open, all over Tamriel. This will give Mehrunes Dagon greater hold on our plane of existence. But," he continued quickly, "it will take the construction of several of what they call 'Great Gates', which are created from the smaller ones, to give Dagon enough power to break through _himself_ into Mundus. Until enough Great Gates are in place, he cannot step through, and until he steps through, not all is lost."

"Kvatch," Martin muttered, and both Jauffre and I turned to regard him. His eyes were on the ground; his head lowered. "That is what happened at Kvatch," he revealed, his voice quiet. "First came the smaller portals. Then the large one opened."

Jauffre nodded. "But, if we can close the smaller Gates, and keep doing so, we could hold Dagon off; perhaps indefinitely."

"That is your solution?" Martin asked hurriedly as he whipped his head up. "Throw armies of men and women at Oblivion Gates, _hoping_ they will come out the other side so that can be sent into more?" he sounded distraught.

"It is not my solution, Sire," Jauffre held up his hands in a placating manner. "It is our only hope. And," he turned to regard me, "it is a hope that people will believe in, now that we know these Gates _can_ be closed. Thanks to you, Lady Passero."

I nodded, though I felt faint at his words. Many would die, in fire, and in pain, if we went this way. But what other choice did we have right now?

"You weren't in Kvatch, Jauffre," Martin continued, raising his voice again and taking a step toward him. "It is not as simple as you think. You have no idea how many people _died_ before Sarina came along."

"Yes. It is curious," Jauffre was still regarding me, "how the Emperor's final words were so literally translated, is it not?" he asked.

"I...didn't do it on my own," I managed, casting my eyes down now as I remembered Ilend. "And I don't understand why it had to be me who did it. All I did was remove the Sigil stone, and the realm collapsed around us," I tried not to wince as I recalled that moment of white nothingness.

"Simple or not, and help or no, _you_ still carried out the Emperor's decree," Jauffre commented.

I turned back up to him. "If one of the Kvatch guards hadn't been there fighting next to me, I would have died. And if Martin had not been there to heal me when I returned, I might not have survived, either."

"And it pleases me to see that you are alive," Jauffre said shortly, missing the point of what I was trying to tell him, I felt.

His attention returned to Martin. "The fact remains, Sire, that it is possible to close a gate to Oblivion, and live to tell the tale. The other cities will believe us, now that the gate in Kvatch has been dealt with. This will give us the time we need to regain the Amulet, and get you on the throne."

Martin didn't look happy, but he gave a small nod.

"Until that time," Jauffre sighed, pressing on. "We must protect you at all costs. I am going to relocate you to Cloud Ruler Temple, the Blades stronghold, north of here. They will not be able to reach us there, no matter who is on their side. It is well fortified, and I've already rallied all of the remaining Blades in Tamriel to gather there to guard you."

Martin was still frowning, and spoke with the all the weighty despondency I remembered him having in Kvatch. "So I am to run and hide, while the people of this land stand and fight?" he asked.

"Yes," Jauffre sighed again. "You don't have to like it, Sire, but as Grandmaster of the Blades, your safety is my responsibility, and _your_ duty," he added quickly, when it looked like Martin was going to cut in again, "is to stay alive," he looked between the two of us quickly. "Now, we must move, and with haste," he continued, looking out in to the yard.

"Baurus!" he then called, taking a step out of the stables.

I blinked, wondering at the call. Baurus was here? The Blade who had helped me escape the lower tunnels of the Tower?

Martin turned to me sadly, speaking in a low rumble. "So this is what it is to be Emperor, is it?"

I gave him a small, apologetic smile, but my chest constricted at the look on his face. "I'm sorry I'm not a madwoman," I started, "but, perhaps think of it this way," I tried to sound encouraging, placing my hand over his crossed arms. "Think of all the good you will do," I squeezed his arm a little, to try make him look up at me. His eyes remained trained on my hand, though he had that far-away look on his face again, as though he didn't really look at anything.

"Good for all of Cyrodiil, for all of Tamriel." I added. "You can command legions to fight, to save people, instead of watching cities burn and hoping aid will arrive some day. You can stop wars before they begin, and..." I searched, "and make a real difference," I finished earnestly.

Martin sighed and did look up to me then, though his eyes were still full of sadness. "You are right, Sarina," he said quietly. "I hadn't thought of it that way."

Before he could continue, Jauffre returned, with Baurus following close behind. I took a step back from Martin, lowering my hand.

"Baurus, it is you!" I exclaimed.

Baurus did a double take. He looked tired, and there were patches of dried blood and smeared ash on his armour and face. "Lady Passero? You are here?"

"Where else would I go?" I smiled between him and Jauffre.

Baurus flicked a glance at Jauffre as well. "But-"

"Enough," Jauffre cut in, though it didn't exactly sound like a command. "She has delivered the last Septim safely to us," Jauffre waved his hand at Martin. "As the late Emperor foretold."

Baurus' eyes widened when they followed Jauffre's hand, and he bowed on one knee in a rush. "Your Majesty, I'm - I'm relieved!" he said hurriedly, his eyes lowered to the ground before him.

Martin reacted with some uncertainty. "Please," he said quietly, "stand up. Baurus, was it?"

"Yes, Sire," Baurus stood, just as hastily, meeting Martin's gaze. "I was one of your father's bodyguards, but..." he trailed off, and looked like he wished he hadn't said anything. The way Baurus' eyes flickered over Martin's features, I could tell he was recognising all of the little similarities between him and the other Septims.

"Baurus is one of my best men," Jauffre supplied when the Blade didn't speak again. "And so it is he who shall assist Lady Passero on her task."

"My what?" I asked, swiveling to face Jauffre. His eyes were trained on Martin.

"Task?" Martin asked at the same time. "Has she not done enough?"

"Both of you, calm down," Jauffre said easily. "Let me explain, Sarina," he continued, turning to me then. "What I ask of you is nothing more than to fulfil the Emperor's final request."

"But...what is there left for me to do?" I asked, wracking my brain in confusion. "I found the heir, and I closed the Gate-"

"Jauffre," Martin cut me off sharply, obviously realising something I didn't. "No. I forbid it."

I hesitated, watching Martin's response as I ran through the Emperor's final words to me again.

_"And I am sorry, but you must close them now, my child. You must close the jaws of Oblivion."_

Jauffre shook his head at Martin. "This is the Emperor's behest, not mine."

"Them," I realised, closing my eyes. "He said...close _them_ ," I turned to Martin, as I felt the blood drain from my face.

He'd already guessed as much, I could tell. He addressed Jauffre in a low voice, clenching his fists by his sides.

"Do you mean to tell me," he grated, "that you intend on sending _Sarina_ into Oblivion gates to hold off Mehrunes Dagon-"

"Martin!" Jauffre tried to cut in.

"-because of something an old man may or may not have said, while you would have me hide and cower-?!"

"Martin!" Jauffre said again, in a more commanding tone, and this time Martin stopped, though his fists were still clenched, and his eyes were full of icy daggers.

"That is not what I'm asking at all," Jauffre continued calmly. "All I need Sarina to do is address, under escort," he added pointedly, indicating Baurus, "the Counts and Countesses of Cyrodiil, and explain to them, and their guards, how she closed the Gate, and why we need them to keep closing gates. A _diplomatic_ mission."

 _Oh_ , I thought, as relief flooded me. _I can do that._

Jauffre continued, holding out his hands now to Martin, palms up. "Lady Passero will have more luck convincing them of our plight than you or I, Sire," he said. "She is already familiar with the aristocracy of Cyrodiil, from her time spent in court. And they know her," he explained.

 _That doesn't sound so bad_ , I thought.

Martin did not seem pacified. "Do you forget that an assassin came for her in the night? That if I had not heard-?"

"I did not forget it," Jauffre cut in. "And that is why Baurus shall go with her. Now I am sorry," he added quickly, turning back to me, before Martin could fire up again. "But you must prepare to leave at once."

I nodded once to Jauffre in acknowledgement, wondering when I would next get to sleep.

"Excuse me. I shall retrieve Patch," I said wearily, walking out of the stables, heading toward the woods.

 _Will my quests ever end_ , I wondered, as I stepped around the Chapel. I glanced at the common house; now a smoking, but no longer flaming, ruin.

Perhaps there would always be something required of me, as long as Martin wasn't on the throne. Though, any purpose was better than no purpose at all, wasn't it?

And what of the Amulet? Jauffre had mentioned nothing of it. But then, I told myself reasonably, why did I need to know what the plans were for retrieving it? It had nothing to do with me, now.

Despite my placating thoughts, I felt uneasy, and in truth, a small part of me thought that Jauffre was taking advantage of the Emperor's final words. But a part of me knew that he was right; it would be easier for me to convince the other cities that the gates could be closed than it would be for a Blade, or an illegitimate heir nobody had ever heard of.

"Sarina!"

I reached the tree line that Martin and I had broken out of only perhaps an hour ago, fighting for our lives, and heard Martin calling my name. I turned back, placing my hand on one of the tree trunks to steady myself and saw him running across the courtyard.

He didn't look angry or dangerous, like he had before, but he didn't look happy either as he came to a stop in front of me.

"I will talk to Jauffre," he said, panting a little as he caught his breath. "You need some rest. He can send any of the Blades to carry out what he asks, and you will come to Cloud Ruler Temple with the rest of us."

I shook my head. "But Jauffre is right," I hated to admit it. "This is a matter that requires a diplomat, not a warrior."

"You aren't a diplomat," Martin said urgently, the line of worry back on his brow.

I smiled wryly at him. "I'm the closest thing you have to one."

I turned back to the trees and stepped into the leaf litter, moving towards the place we had left Patch, and hoping that she would still be there. It was much darker in the woods, and I had to watch where I placed my feet so I wouldn't stumble.

"Besides, it will not be so bad," I called back to Martin, then realised he was already there beside me, pushing a fern out of the way with one hand and casting a Candlelight spell in his other.

"Oh," I quietened, and smiled up at him in thanks. He flashed me a concerned look, but said nothing, so I turned back and continued picking my way around the trees and undergrowth.

"It will not be so bad," I repeated, with a sigh. "And, I _am_ glad that I can be of some actual use," I added genuinely, as we reached the place where Patch had been tied off. The mare seemed fine; she was grazing on large chunks of leaves from a tree next to her. I was relieved. A part of me had wondered if the assassin who'd stolen Tor had killed Prior Maborel's little horse to stop us from being able to pursue him on horseback. I reached up and patted her nose, and as usual, she chose to ignore me.

I shook my head at the mare and started to untie her from the tree she'd been tethered her to, when I felt Martin's hand on my arm, turning me back to him. I let him turn me, frowning when I saw the sadness in him, and wishing I could brush it away, somehow.

"It's not safe," he pressed quietly. "What if another assassin comes for you?"

"I will have Baurus with me," I said steadily. I couldn't think of another red-robed figure creeping up on me while I slept. I wouldn't be able to function if I did.

"Baurus," Martin huffed, somewhat crossly.

I crossed my brows at him. "Baurus helped me make it out of the Tower alive," I told him. "He will be more than up to the task of escorting me from city to city, to have lunch with a bunch of nobles."

I gripped Patch's bridle and reigns, and started to move back toward the road and the Priory, but Martin's hand grabbed mine, stopping me again.

"Sarina, _no_ , please listen," he turned me back to face him once again, his Candlelight spell extinguishing between us as he stepped closer to me.

Patch's bridle fell from my hand in the darkness and my breath caught in my throat as he leaned in. The hand not holding mine reached up to my arm, holding it securely, and I felt the warmth of Healing magic flowing from him; the spell creating a golden glow between us.

"I fear for you," Martin whispered, resting his forehead against mine. His breath was as warm as his spell. "I fear that you will be lost to Oblivion, no matter what Jauffre says," he sighed with an ache, and some desperation, in his tone.

I didn't know how to respond. My face felt hot, and my heart was beating so loudly in my chest that I was sure Martin could hear, perhaps even feel it. Despite how I trusted him, I was frightened by how close, how intimate he suddenly was, though I couldn't put words to what made me afraid. The Healing magic he gave me wove through me, draining my fatigue and easing my aches, along with a little of the fear. I reminded myself to breathe.

I was desperate to say something, the _right_ thing, to ease his mind, and lift some of his despair.

I raised my hand to the crook of his elbow, ignoring how I shook when I did. "Martin," I whispered, easing my forehead back from his, so I could look into his eyes, so he would see I was sincere. "I want to help. This way, I can."

"Don't go into any more Gates," he squeezed my hand in his, and I shivered. "Promise me," he added, ducking down to my eye level, as the Healing spell from the hand on my arm ended. I watched Martin's face darken as the shadows of the woods crept around us again.

I couldn't promise him anything, and I couldn't lie to him, so I stayed silent. We stood like Ayleid statues, lost in the woods and unmoving, as we searched each other's eyes for answers and promises, which inevitably lead only to questions, and uncertainties.

Perhaps, as a Septim, Martin had inherited the gift of foresight from his father. Perhaps that was why he worried. Perhaps I _was_ going to be lost to Oblivion in the future.

But as I searched his eyes I realised that I would do whatever it took to keep him safe. I charged through Oblivion for Martin, before I even knew him. I believed in him. If I was to be cast into Oblivion again and again, while the Blades searched for the Amulet and kept Martin out of harms way, then I would do it.

Roused by this revelation in me, I leaned forward, and lifted my hand to his cheek. "I promise you one thing, Martin Septim," I tried to keep my voice steady, though I was afraid, and the way Martin leaned into my touch didn't help. "I promise to return."

The sound of footfalls in the woods startled us both, and I dropped my hand from Martin's cheek as though he was made of fire, whirling around. At the same time, Martin let go of my hand.

"Lady Passero?" Baurus was calling through the trees.

I flushed and hurriedly moved to retrieve Patch for the second time, grabbing her bridle. My mother's voice reprimanded me in my mind for presuming to touch the soon-to-be Emperor so familiarly.

 _He is trying to warn and heal you, you stupid girl_ , she sneered. _And you respond by turning doe-eyed, quaking and gasping like a lovelorn child, and promising oaths you are likely to break._

"If that is all the promise you can give me," Martin whispered promptly, unaware of my own thoughts berating me. "I will accept it, and hope."

I started to lead Patch toward the Priory courtyard. "Why don't you pray for me?" I asked.

Martin relit his Candlelight spell, and trailed after me. I heard him laugh a little, though it wasn't exactly in amusement. "If you believe it will help."

I glanced back at him, worrying for the mind of a priest who was losing everything, including his faith; Emperor or not. The harsh whiteness of his Candlelight spell made him look older, and more tired.

"I do, Martin," I told him, thinking that perhaps prayer would bring him some solace, if nothing else. "Pray for me?" I asked again.

"Are you there?" Baurus called unsurely.

"We are here, Baurus," Martin called out. "We had a hard time tracking down the horse," he lied, flashing me a glance. "She must have gotten spooked when the man who stole the Amulet took Tor."

He turned to me properly then, and his smile was sad and didn't reach his eyes.

But it was still a smile, as he replied in his hushed voice; "I will pray for you."


	10. The Countess of Chorrol

I rode Patch at a walking pace, while Baurus strode beside us. We made for Chorrol, to talk to Countess Arriana Valga, to inform her about what had befallen Weynon Priory overnight, and to explain to her about what needed to be done with regards to Oblivion gates. Jauffre had handed Baurus a small bag of Septims as we'd departed, telling him to buy another horse at the Chorrol stables.

I had never been to Chorrol before, though I had met the widowed Countess at her daughter Alessia's wedding in Leyawiin, when I had been fourteen. I remembered Alessia's wedding well; it had been a dour affair, and followed by a cheerless reception at Castle Leyawiin after the lengthy ceremony. I had thought then about how strange it was, that it seemed as though both Count Caro, and his new bride, did not wish to celebrate anything.

Would my wedding to Ebel be so grim, I had wondered after that occasion? After enduring the Caro's nuptials, I had been determined to find a way to love Ebel before our own wedding, or at the very least for us to come to some understanding, even if I did not _love_ him. Perhaps it had been then, when I had consciously made the effort to spend more time with my future husband, that the gossips had started assuming we had not waited to consummate our union. Perhaps that was why the assassins had targeted me, when they had targeted the rest of the Septim family. Perhaps they needed to be certain I was not carrying another Septim.

The thought made me flush, both in embarrassment and anger at the City gossips. They had clearly not known Ebel, so full of duty, and honour. He had never, in all our time together, tried to take advantage of me. He had shown me respect, but he had treated me like a child. The closest we had ever been was when he had kissed me on the hand when we had first met, when I had been ten, and he, twenty-two. We had been surrounded by bodyguards and with my mother and his older brothers at the time.

 _It does not matter now_ , I reminded myself again. There was only one Septim left in Cyrodiil, now, and he was full of despair at his position, losing his faith in the Divines, and had been ordered into indefinite exile by Jauffre.

The memory of Martin taking my hand, turning me back to face him and pressing his forehead to mine was fresh in my thoughts, and I swallowed, remembering how my heart had raced; how breathless his touch had made me feel as his Candlelight spell had extinguished and left us alone in the dark woods together. If Baurus had not called out, what might have happened? If he was not a priest, what would he have done, I wondered? If I had been bolder, what would _I_ have done? For that matter, what did I _want_ to happen? I barely knew him.

Baurus brought me back to my senses with a question as we neared the stable yard in Chorrol.

"Do you think we should make for the Castle now, my Lady?" he asked. "Or is it too early?"

I looked at the horizon, seeing that the sun was about to rise. _This time yesterday_ , I thought idly, _Martin and I had just left Skingrad_.

I glanced away from the sunrise and dismounted. Baurus hurried to my side to help me down.

I shook my head at him. "I can manage, thank you," I told him.

Baurus' mouth formed a thin line. "Yes, my Lady. You seem to have managed much, despite the odds, since leaving the Tower, if you'll forgive me for saying so."

He took Patch's reigns, and we walked the final approach to the stables side-by-side.

"Baurus, please," I said in a lowered voice. "You do not need to be so formal. Someone may overhear you."

"I apologise," he said, still just as formally.

"Please, you have nothing to apologise for," I insisted, searching for a change in topic. "I think we should secure you a horse now," I told him. "It would be just our luck if we went to the Countess first, to return and find that the stable master had sold his last horse an hour earlier."

I had meant the latter in jest, trying to lighten Baurus' mood, but he replied just as seriously as before. "I agree. And the sooner we can start moving back toward the Imperial City, the faster I will find the Amulet."

I whirled around to face him. " _You're_ going after the Amulet?" I asked hurriedly.

Baurus nodded, his brows crossing. "I thought Jauffre had explained."

I huffed, turning back to the stable, and opening the gate, so Baurus could walk Patch inside. "He mustn't have thought it relevant," I managed lightly. "What about the other cities? Should we not at least head to Bruma on our way?"

My mind raced. Maybe I would be searching for the Amulet with him. Maybe I would still be the one to give Martin the Amulet of Kings, as the Emperor had bade me.

Baurus lead Patch through, and I closed the gate behind us. "Jauffre's instructions were..." he hesitated, as he glanced at me.

"Yes?" I asked eagerly.

"We're to talk to the Countess, then make for the Imperial City," he told me. "Once there, while you are speaking to the Chancellor, who is managing things in the City while there is no Emperor, I will begin searching for signs of what became of the Amulet."

I nodded, though I felt a stab of fear at the thought of returning to the White-Gold Tower so soon. "I see. Where do you plan on beginning your search?"

Baurus seemed relieved about something, and spoke easier now. "Most of our contacts in the City are still loyal to us. They are good at seeing things that most do not. I will start with them."

I was more curious as Baurus and I walked up to the stable master's house. "You must tell me if there is any way I can assist you with the search," I told him.

Baurus remained quiet at this, and I wondered if there was more to his orders than he was telling me.

–

Once we'd secured a horse for Baurus and walked into Chorrol, I asked Baurus if we might stop by an Inn first, so I could freshen up. The Countess would of course admit me, as a member of the Cyrodiil aristocracy, but she would not appreciate it if I stormed into her Court reeking of horse and smoke and blood.

I could see this annoyed Baurus, but I insisted that such things were important to Countess Valga, and that she might be easier to convince if we took some time to make sure we were presentable. Baurus agreed with me begrudgingly; I could hear the strain in his voice. I wondered what he would say to me if he wasn't so determined to remain formal.

We secured two rooms at the Oak and Crosier in Fountain Gate, which I paid four times the asking price for. I asked the publican, a Khajit woman who introduced herself as Talasma, for her discretion, and if she would mind bringing us some food and having bathing water brought at once.

I could see that the publican was insanely curious by our appearance, and my request, but she merely pocketed the money and agreed, asking if we had bags at the stable to retrieve.

"No, thank you," I answered her moving toward the stairs, where I assumed the rooms were. "We shall not be staying the night."

This seemed to make her more curious, but Talasma nodded in reply, and stepped past Baurus and I, leading us to my room. She told us that Baurus' room was across the hall, and that she would see to our food and bathing water at once.

Baurus was tight-lipped and obviously frustrated, as he paced over to the bookshelf in my hired room, then shifted to the wardrobe, and then the window, searching.

I regarded him, as I hurriedly threw off my cloak, then sat to pull off my boots. "Speak your mind, Baurus."

Baurus turned to me, shaking his head. "I must not, my Lady," he said, still tight lipped. "I understand why we are doing this. I just wish we did not have to."

I sighed. "I know," I said regretfully. "It sounds petty and pointless, when there is so much at stake," I agreed.

"Exactly," Baurus said in a rush of breath.

"But I know these people," I added quietly. "If we want them to listen to, and believe us - believe in Martin," I eased myself off the bed, and walked to the dressing table, "we will have to make them comfortable," I told him calmly as I sat in front of the mirror, and untied my hair.

Baurus said nothing, but I heard him shifting about, and saw him take a seat by the door in the reflection of the dresser mirror. He looked distinctly uncomfortable.

There was a brush on the dresser, and I ran it through my curls and grimaced, wondering when I would next get to wash my hair. "Countess Valga loves cleanliness, and propriety," I continued, flicking him a glance. "You do not have to do anything when we are in audience, but stand by my side," I said, turning around to him.

Baurus seemed stiff, with his hands resting on his knees, and his back straight. "Perhaps that would be best, my Lady."

I nodded to him, then turned back to the dresser, wondering what I could possibly do with my hair. Caroline usually did it for me.

"Why don't you go relax in your room for a while?" I asked Baurus, "I shan't be too long."

I saw the reflection of Baurus shake his head. "Sorry, my Lady, but I swore that I would not let you out of my sight, until you were under the protection of High Chancellor Ocato, in the City."

 _Jauffre made him swear that_ , I wondered?

"That would have been good to know before I paid for your room," I told his reflection wryly. "What else did Jauffre _swear_ you to do?" I asked, trying to sound light. I looped the red ribbon that had been holding my hair up around my neck, tying it at the nape so it formed a wide headband, so I could clean my face properly when the water arrived.

"He-" Baurus began, but stopped when there was a knock at the door. Baurus rose, half-unsheathing his blade, as he strode to answer it.

"It will just be the water, Baurus," I told him. "Maybe the food."

 _An assassin doesn't knock_ , I wanted to add.

It was Talasma, carrying a platter laden with tea things, fruit, cooked eggs, cold meats and toasted bread. After her, another, younger male Khajit followed, with a pail of water sloshing under each arm. Baurus let them pass, sheathing his sword pointedly as his eyes followed the nervous-looking male Khajit.

After I'd thanked Talasma with a few more Septims in her paw, and she and her assistant had left, I squared Baurus with a hard look, and spoke as soon as he'd locked the door.

"Did Jauffre command you to stay by my side while I bathed?" I asked him pointedly.

Baurus flushed, and stammered, "Of course not, my Lady!"

I nodded to the door, hoping he would understand without any further – frankly embarrassing – hints. I was used to having servants and bodyguards in the room while I bathed, but they had always been female.

Baurus looked torn, and asked me to wait a moment, as he hurried to the window again, and checked that it was latched. My eyes followed his progress as he paced the whole room, twice, telling myself that I should be grateful for his diligence. I did not want another assassin sneaking up on me in a room again, for I doubted I would be as lucky as I had been the last time.

When he moved to the door to leave, I thanked him.

He nodded out of respect. "I will stand by the door, and none shall pass. Call me when you are ready. And please, my Lady," he added. "Be quick."

I was. I undressed hastily and scrubbed myself down, wondering if there was time to call for a merchant to bring me a dress, as I glanced at my slightly dirty riding gear.

There was not, I decided. The riding gear had some spots on it, from the ash of the fires that had consumed Weynon Priory, but they were still fine, upper-class garments, that would be acceptable to the Countess. Perhaps they would work in my favour, and impress on her our need for haste, and the importance of my message.

After I had scrubbed myself clean with warm water and a washcloth, I threw my underclothes, the trousers and green tunic back on, and let Baurus back into the room. Then I rubbed at a few spots on the green doublet, while I asked him to polish the riding boots, and insisted that he have something to eat while he could, as I would likely be fed up at the Castle.

When we were done I pulled the boots and doublet back on, making sure that my father's ring on my mother's gold chain was positioned prominently around my neck. I was glad that I had brought it, now. Whipping the red ribbon from my hair, I let the curls fall free, and ran my wet fingers through them swiftly, to define them a little. Finally, Baurus and I gathered all of our extra things from the room, like my cloak and bow, which he carried, and we left the Inn.

–

My audience with Countess Valga was a formal affair that lasted far longer than it needed to. Baurus was silent during the entire ordeal, though I could tell he was frustrated by the urgency I caught in his expression every now and then. He had been relieved of his burdens, including his Blades katana, by a guard in dark chain mail with the blue-backed, white tree of Chorrol on his breast, and he hovered by my side wherever I was lead, like a giant, silent, surly ghost.

The Countess had recognised me of course, by name and by appearance – though her eyes had flickered to my hair for a moment when I had first arrived. After the formal greeting and some talk of the tragedies at the Priory the previous night and the Imperial City the past week, our discussion inevitably turned to how I had escaped the City, and why I was in Chorrol now.

I had a speech half-formed in my mind already, but I had to be careful. None of the nobles knew about Martin yet and there was no guarantee that they would support his claim to the throne, dragonfires or not. It would have been simpler if he had been with me, as his manner, and similarities to Uriel Septim, would have convinced them, but that was not to be. I had to _convince_ them to believe in him, as I believed in him.

I put down my half-empty cup of tea, and made sure I was still sitting straight (I was), smoothing my hands into my lap. "Countess Valga," I spoke formally. She was a class above me, so I was required to call her by her title. "My visit to you today was requested of me by the late Emperor himself," I revealed. "For I was escaping with him when he was taken by the assassins, and he explained his will to me."

The Countess' hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, my dear child."

I bowed my head a little, acknowledging the sympathy in her voice. "The Emperor bade me, as he handed me the Amulet of Kings, to complete two tasks for him," I continued. "One was to find the last Septim; a man who had been kept hidden at his request," I chose my words carefully, trying to insinuate that the Emperor had hidden Martin out of foresight of these events, not of illegitimacy.

"There is...Uriel and Caula had another child?" the Countess looked genuinely confused.

I made sure I didn't outwardly react, though I wanted to wince, since she'd asked the very question I had been hoping she would not. "The last Septim living in Tamriel was borne to another woman, Countess," I said quietly, but steadily, "several years after the Empress' death," I had determined earlier.

I saw Countess Valga quirk her eyebrow at this.

At least I had her full attention now, I supposed.

I pushed on, hurriedly. "As well as locating his only remaining son," I continued, hoping I had not lost her, "the late Emperor asked me to find a way to close the portals to the deadlands that would open across Tamriel, as long as there was no Septim on the throne wearing the Amulet of Kings to keep the dragonfires that protect us alight."

"Portals," the Countess mused. "Yes, I have heard of what happened, in Kvatch," she said. "Are you telling me that more of these gateways will open, until this illegitimate heir is on the throne?" she crossed her brow, but looked more concerned than angry.

I nodded. "Yes," I was relieved that the prim and proper Countess seemed to see into the heart of the matter, "but there is hope yet," I added.

"The Hero of Kvatch?" she asked quickly, sitting a little straighter.

I baulked, wondering how she had come to know that name.

The Countess continued while I recovered. "The papers say that she is a fierce and shining leader, who ran into the Oblivion gate laying siege to Kvatch without a second thought, and not only closed the portal, but also saved Kvatchian guards who had been trapped in there!" she exclaimed, laying a hand on my arm, her voice tittering with laughter. "Oh, Sarina dear, can you imagine such a thing? It sounds like a bard's tale."

I swallowed and agreed with her, then picked up my tea cup. My hands were shaking slightly as I wondered how to proceed, and considered whether or not I could use this mythology developing around what had happened in Kvatch to aid Martin's cause. I was sure I could. I had to try.

"It is the truth," I spoke quietly, deciding. "The Hero of Kvatch is real."

The Countess looked intrigued. "Have you met her?" she asked, then took a sip of tea and waited for me to continue.

I nodded, meeting her gaze levelly. "She is me. I walked into the Oblivion gate at Kvatch, and closed it, as the late Emperor foretold."

The Countess hesitated, before she laughed, a little uneasily this time. "Lady Passero," she started in a warning tone, placing her tea cup back on the saucer on the table between us. It was the first time, since our formal greeting, that she had called me by my title instead of my first name. "I understand that you jest, though I do not know what you hope to achieve by doing so. Why would you say such a thing?"

"Because it is the truth," I said in a lowered voice. "There were guards assisting me," I added, for I realised that nobody would believe I had taken on Oblivion alone, "and had it not been for them I would surely have perished. But it is the truth. The Hero of Kvatch is real, and she is sitting before you," I gained some confidence. "I closed the Oblivion gate, and I am here today to tell you how to do it, so your guards may close any that threaten our realm in your county."

The Countess was wide-eyed by the time I had finished, and I heard Baurus shifting behind me. I wondered at how he was reacting, but kept my eyes trained on the Countess.

This was the first he'd heard about what had really happened in Kvatch, too, I supposed. I hoped that whatever face Baurus was wearing, it did not carry too much doubt, because the Countess would have a hard enough time believing me as it was.

I drew our conversation back to the incident at Weynon Priory, and how the Amulet of Kings had been stolen during the attack. I told her about Jauffre's research; how the only way to hold off Mehrunes Dagon was to keep closing the gates, and to not let a Great Gate form. I told her that the Blades had secured the heir in a secret location, so that he may be kept alive while the search for the Amulet was carried out.

When she asked what Martin was like, I told her all I knew of him; how he had studied as a priest of Akatosh, and of how his resemblance to the Emperor and his sons was so profound, and his manner so strong and kind, with wisdom beyond his years, that there was no doubt in my mind of who he was.

I talked and talked, and she listened.

–

"Do you think she believed you, my Lady?" Baurus asked me.

We were riding along the road to the Imperial City, with Chorrol and Weynon Priory behind us when Baurus broke his silence about the audience with the Countess.

I sighed. "I hope so. I don't know," I confessed. "Do you?"

"Do I believe you?" he confirmed.

I nodded. If he didn't believe me, given his inclusion in and inside knowledge of most of the events that had passed, how was anyone else supposed to?

He paused. "I do," he nodded. "But, my Lady," he added hurriedly. "Why _did_ you step into an Oblivion gate? And - how could they have let you?"

"How could who have let me?" I asked, crossing my brows.

"The Captain. The guards. Anybody?" he answered, looking out to the horizon.

I cast my eyes to the road ahead, too, then; the White-Gold Tower was visible, like a hazy mirage, in the distance.

"You are no warrior," Baurus added in a mutter.

I shrugged a little. "No. But it's what happened. There was no other way to reach Martin," I explained plainly. "And I knew that if he was lost..." I faltered. "Then...all was lost."

Baurus stayed quiet at this.

"I did have another guard with me, as I said," I restarted. "I found a few inside the deadlands, battling daedra," I didn't really want to remember those hours in Oblivion, but I wanted Baurus to understand what had happened.

"And all you did was remove a stone from its setting?" he asked unsurely. He had, of course, heard my explanation to the Countess, as I'd explained how to close the Gate so she could inform her Guard. "That's all it took to collapse it? How did you escape?"

"I don't know," I said honestly, thinking that of course, it hadn't been _that_ easy. "The hard part was finding the Sigil stone. It was locked away and protected, high in a dark tower surrounded by searing lava, and these patrolling lizard-ish daedra, and Dremora," I told him, wishing that I knew what to call the lizard-things. "When I removed the Sigil stone, everything turned white," I revealed. "I woke two days later, in the Chapel, with Martin by my side healing me," I shrugged. "I don't exactly know what happened."

Baurus let out a long, sighing breath. "My Lady, that is quite a tale."

"I know," I shook my head, laughing a little at myself, to dispel the sombre memories Oblivion dredged up. "I can hardly believe what really happened. Or that the Emperor's words were so...literal," I added, knowing that _this_ would be something that Baurus would believe, even if he believed only part of my story.

"It is no wonder that an assassin was sent after you," he concluded, and I whirled my head around to look at him.

"What do you mean?"

Baurus hesitated, seeing my look, but then said, "It stands to reason that the Oblivion Gates, and the red-robed assassins, are connected," he began. "It is clear that they are not Dark Brotherhood, as the assassin's guild is never so...obvious. If it's this group of assassin's desire to open Oblivion gates throughout Cyrodiil," he shrugged, "and then you come along and close them..." he trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid.

My mind raced. I had assumed that the assassin had been after me because I had been Ebel's betrothed; not because I had closed an Oblivion gate, the thought hadn't crossed my mind. And, Baurus was right about something else; the far more crucial matter. The assassins, and the Oblivion gates, _had_ to be connected.

"Who would _want_ to open Oblivion gates?" I asked Baurus, aghast.

He shrugged again. "A daedric cult might?"

 _Of course_. The pieces of the assassination puzzle clunked into place alongside what we already knew about the Oblivion gates. The only people who would want to merge Mundus and Oblivion would be...Mehrunes Dagon worshippers.

"Is that who you think stole the Amulet?" I asked. "Cultists?"

Baurus nodded. "That is what I intend on asking my contacts first, in the City," he said. "Now, my Lady, do you think we might ride a little faster?" he asked. "I hope to reach the City before the sun sets."

I nodded, and kicked my heels into Patch to quicken her pace. Baurus matched that pace and we leaned over the horses, making haste for the City that I had escaped out of only a few days earlier.

Whether any of our speculation was true or not; whether Mehrunes Dagon cultists really had the Amulet or not, it was somewhere to start looking. Perhaps the Amulet wasn't lost to us forever.


	11. Mythic Dawn Commentaries

When we reached the Imperial City, we left our horses at the stable, and then Baurus handed me my cloak, advising me that I should raise the hood, and remain silent.

Instead of entering through the main gate, Baurus lead us around the gatehouse, and we entered the City by a door that lead to the guards quarters. Baurus saluted the two guards on duty at the door, and once we were inside, told me to hold his arm and pretend that I was hurt. I faked a limp at once, gripping onto the Blade's forearm, and kept my eyes lowered.

We weren't stopped or questioned, though Baurus exchanged greetings with the guards we passed by. None stopped us, to ask who I was, and as we progressed I wondered why security hadn't been tightened in the wake of the Emperor and his sons murders. But, I supposed Baurus had free reign of the area, being a Blade.

When we exited the maze of stone walkways and I felt the cool air of evening brush my face, I looked up to see that we were in the Talos Plaza district. I cast my eyes down immediately, as I caught sight of the entryway to the Elder Council Chamber, at the base of the White Gold Tower.

Tears sprung to my eyes, at the wrong moment as usual. We had made it so far, into the very centre of the City, and without any hinderances. Had it been this easy for the assassins – the probable cultists – who had killed the Septims?

"You can stop limping and lower your hood now, my Lady," Baurus said in a lowered voice.

I did as he said, letting go of his arm and trying to shake the tears away. Baurus didn't seem to notice them, or if he did, didn't mention them.

"What happens now?" I asked him quietly as we strode toward the door. "Tell the High Chancellor how to close the gates?"

Baurus nodded. "Yes. But let me speak to him first, if you would, my Lady."

"Baurus," I said in exasperation, "Please. Drop the 'my Lady' business. It makes what you have to tell me take twice as long."

Baurus' mouth formed a grim line and he shook his head. "I am sorry, my Lady, I cannot. It would not be right, particularly here."

I sighed and tried to let it go as we neared the entrance.

Imperial guards flanked the doors leading to the Council Chambers, and seeing them lined up there somewhat relieved me. Their silvery armour shone in the light of the torches each of them held. One of them, the highest ranked from the looks of the medals on his armour, stepped forward at our approach. He questioned Baurus, though not with aggression, for he was a Blade and the guards seemed to know and like him.

Baurus talked for a moment about needing to see the High Chancellor at the request of the Grandmaster, then indicated me, and said no more. When the guard recognised me, his eyes widened and they let us through at once.

The Elder Council Chambers were empty. I had never seen them empty. The cavernous room was dim, with only pale light filtering through the high windows from outside making anything discernible. A large, circular table rose in the middle of the room, surrounded by thirty red chairs, evenly spaced. My eyes travelled to the seat that the Emperor had sat at. Was the High Chancellor holding council at all, in his stead? Or was everybody still too shocked to know what to do?

Martin would sit there, I realised, if we could recover the Amulet for him.

As Baurus lead us to the doorway that would lead into the Tower proper, the door opened, and Chancellor's bodyguard, Evangeline, stepped into the Council Chambers.

She stopped in her tracks when she saw us. She was a battlemage in her mid-thirties; a Breton with the Mages Guild. Despite her fine stature, elegant features and fancy velvet red dress, all that knew her understood that she was not to be trifled with; she carried a powerful arsenal of destructive spells. All who didn't know her generally found out, very quickly.

She recovered. "Baurus?" she confirmed, hurrying to us, then her eyes widened again, as she recognised me.

"My Lady," she lowered her head and dipped into a quick curtsy. "We feared you had been killed!"

"Evangeline, where is the High Chancellor?" Baurus cut in urgently. "We must speak with him at once."

Evangeline nodded, her blonde locks floating prettily around her cheeks as she did. "He is sitting down to dinner, as we speak. Would you care to join him, Lady Passero?" she asked me directly.

I nodded, "Yes, thank you, that would be wonderful."

I hoped that he didn't have company. Ocato on his own, I could manage, but I didn't want what we had to tell him to be overheard.

"This way please," she replied, and turned to move back through the door she had just opened. After Baurus and I had stepped through after her, she locked the door behind us, with a key from a ring on her silken rope belt.

We walked in silence, Evangeline in the lead, and Baurus behind me.

"Have the Council met since the incident?" I asked Evangeline eventually.

Evangeline shook her head, though continued walking. "No, my Lady. The High Chancellor has suspended the Elder Council until he can assure them that the City is secure," she explained.

"Do you have any leads about who was behind it?" Baurus asked.

Evangeline gave the Blade a quick, uncertain look, over her shoulder. "A few. And you?"

I wanted to sigh at her response. Mages were notoriously suspicious of anyone who wielded a sword, even the Blades.

"A few," Baurus replied grimly.

Evangeline nodded as she continued on, and stopped in front of a set of double-doors, selecting another key from the ring on her belt. "One moment, please, my Lady. I shall announce you," she bobbed another bow as she entered the room.

I waited and smoothed out my doublet, then unfastened my cloak and handed it to Baurus.

I didn't hear what Evangeline said to the High Chancellor, but I did hear the sound of cutlery hitting a plate as it fell, and the sound of a chair being hurriedly scraped back across the stone floor.

Baurus' hand flew to his katana, as he stepped in front of me. Startled by his actions, I leaped back.

High Chancellor Ocato threw the double doors open. He was openly gaping. The Altmer was dressed in his official robes; red velvet, edged in gold thread, and his dark blonde hair was slicked back from his forehead with oil.

Baurus immediately stepped aside, removing his hand from his scabbard, and lowered his eyes.

Ocato didn't seemed to have noticed Baurus' stance when he'd opened the doors. He pushed past the Blade, and placed his hands on my shoulders. "Lady Passero?" he gasped. "Is it really you?" his eyes flickered over my features; lingering on my hair for a moment.

I nodded, trying to smile, but felt a little overwhelmed by his greeting. I tried not to lean away from him.

Ocato seemed to recover and lowered his hands, smoothing them down the front of his robes at once, as he dipped his head in a quick bow. "I am relieved to see you again, dear Lady," he said, sounding less shocked. "As I am sure you have heard since you re-entered the City, we all thought you to be dead."

I ignored the curiosity in his tone, and bobbed a curtsy in reply, as was required of me. "It is good to see you too, High Chancellor," I returned steadily.

The High Chancellor invited me in to take dinner with him, and another place was set for me. He had just begun the soup course. Baurus positioned himself by my side, even after I sat. Once I was settled, I remembered what he had asked me, about wanting to talk to Ocato first. I indicated the Redguard Blade.

"High Chancellor," I said. "This is Baurus, the Blade who helped me escape the City," I introduced him, knowing full well that the High Chancellor would know who he was.

"Yes, Baurus," the High Chancellor sounded a little stern, and I hoped that he wasn't going to bring up the Emperor's murder. There was nothing Baurus could have done about it, and indeed if he had not been there, we would have all died.

Baurus bowed, then addressed Ocato. "High Chancellor, I have been ordered to escort Lady Passero to you by Grandmaster Jauffre," he said, his eyes trained in front of him, "where she is to remain indefinitely under your protection, carrying out the task set upon her by the Emperor in his dying breaths-"

I blinked. "Baurus, what?" I asked. He was speaking very fast, and I wasn't certain I had heard what he had said correctly.

High Chancellor Ocato shook his head. "The Tower is compromised. I have an investigation to undertake, and she will be at greater risk here than anywhere else in Cyrodiil."

"Baurus, what do you mean, 'indefinitely'?" I asked again, wondering if he'd used the wrong word, or if I'd misheard him.

Baurus' eyes remained pointedly focussed on the High Chancellor. "The Grandmaster requests that you call an emergency session of the Elder Council, so that Lady Passero may address the Empire's representatives," he continued as though neither of us had interrupted him. "This will allow her to fulfil the late Emperor's final request, that she close the jaws of Oblivion."

I felt faint. This is why he'd been so hesitant to tell me the details of his orders. This is why we had ridden straight for the City, instead of heading to any of the other Counts and Countesses. I was to address the Council.

"Now, if I may be excused," Baurus continued, "I must carry out more of the Grandmaster's orders, within the City," he indicated me. "I leave Lady Passero in your care, High Chancellor. And my Lady," he cast a glance at me, finally, and I saw guilt in his brown stare. "I am sorry," he spoke a little softer.

"This is preposterous," Ocato was saying, shaking his head.

I couldn't take my eyes off Baurus, and I commanded myself to not react as Ocato was. I breathed in and out slowly, feeling scared, and used. So, I was not to travel around Cyrodiil, then return to Cloud Ruler Temple. Cyrodiil was to come to me. And then what? _Remain at the Tower indefinitely_ , he had said.

Jauffre had sent me home.

Baurus bowed again. "I must go. I am sorry to have to leave the explanations to Lady Passero," he knelt by my chair, lowering his head, and I flushed despite everything. "My Lady, should you have need of me in the coming days, send a letter asking about the health of Mr Rosewater, to Luther Broad's Boarding House."

"Baurus, what is the meaning of this?" the High Chancellor was asking, more furiously now.

 _And where will you go, after that_ , I wanted to ask Baurus, blocking Ocato out. _Don't just leave me here. I can help._

When I said nothing to him, Baurus rose, and bowed sharply to Ocato. "I must take my leave, High Chancellor. Lady Passero."

Then he was gone, leaving a flustered Ocato and gaping Evangeline behind him. My shoulders slumped as I watched him go, and a sense of abandonment overwhelmed me.

The High Chancellor's bodyguard recovered quickly, locking the door after the Blade had exited.

"Blasted Blades!" Chancellor Ocato cried. "They forget who it is they serve," he said pointedly to me, and I assumed he was expecting me to agree with him.

 _The Emperor_ , I thought sadly, as tears started to well in my eyes. I wiped them away hastily, but Ocato must have seen, or expected, them.

"Dear Lady, I apologise on behalf of the brute," he hurried from his place at the end of the table, to sit by me. "Such an unruly manner," he added, once he had settled. I saw Evangeline shuffle into position behind him, out of the corner of my eye.

I glanced at her. She was staring straight ahead with spots of red on her cheeks, as though she was embarrassed, or very angry.

I turned to the Chancellor, feeling like the weak child everyone seemed to presume that I was. "No, I apologise, High Chancellor," I started. I dabbed my eyes with a serviette, but a few more leaked out in the process. I wanted nothing more than to be left alone, and knew that here in the Tower, I never would be, for my own _safety_.

With a wave of his hand to Evangeline, a glass of wine was placed in front of me. I stared at the blood-red liquid, glimmering in its crystal goblet, and remembered Martin handing me a glass of wine after the assassin had attacked me. After he had saved me, and held me while I had cried.

 _Would_ I ever see him again? Perhaps from afar, during his coronation, if the Amulet was found. But after that?

Perhaps Jauffre had been right to send me away. He needed all of his Blades focussed on Martin's security, and on finding the Amulet. I would only get in the way. And I had a task to fulfil, too.

I sighed and raised the goblet to my lips, taking a small sip, and rallied my strength as the wine warmed my mouth and throat as I swallowed. I turned to Ocato. "I apologise for bursting in on you during dinner, High Chancellor," I spoke, trying to pretend that I had just sat down, and Baurus hadn't just deserted me. "But there is much to explain."

Another sip of the wine; more warmth flowed through me. The feeling reminded me of a Healing spell, and that reminded me of Martin again. Then I remembered that Martin needed me to be his representative; his diplomat; so that others would believe in him, and believe what I had to tell them about the Oblivion gates.

I had to be stronger than this; if not for my own sake, then for his.

Taking a deep breath, I placed the goblet on the table, turned back to the High Chancellor, and told him what I needed to say.

He didn't interrupt me, though his expression changed several times during my tale; from concern, to despair, to horror; a flicker of doubt, a flash of anger. When I had finished speaking, the High Chancellor stood immediately, turning and whispering frantically to Evangeline.

But I heard what he said.

"Summon the Elder Council at once."

–

In the weeks that it took to assemble the members of the Elder Council in the Imperial City, I wrote letters to them all; to the Houses of Tamriel. If I was to be kept in the Tower, unable to bring my message of the Oblivion gates to them until they arrived, I would have to send some word to them. I could not tell them of everything that I needed to say, but I could at least beseech that they close any Oblivion gates the moment they opened, advise them how such a feat might be achieved, and let them know that the last Septim, and our last hope, lived and had been hidden away safely.

In each envelope, along with my letter, I added a copy of the Black Horse Courier edition that wrote of the Hero of Kvatch closing the gate to Oblivion; the edition that the Countess of Chorrol had mentioned when I had had lunch with her.

I wondered why Baurus had bothered taking me to Chorrol that morning. If Jauffre's intention was that I be brought back to the Imperial City and the Council brought to me all along, why had he allowed us to waste time in Chorrol at all?

Perhaps he had thought that, since we would need the extra horse, the visit to the Countess was unavoidable without revealing Jauffre's true orders. No wonder Baurus had been so uncomfortable about my insisting we spend time freshening up before seeing Countess Valga.

But why hadn't Jauffre just told me that this was my task? I didn't understand at all why he had lied to me, and the frustrating part was that now I had no idea if I'd ever get to ask him about it. Presuming that Baurus tracked down the Amulet and the Blades brought Martin to the City, I would undoubtedly be sent back to Skingrad, to Rosethorn Hall, once it was safe.

For the first few days, I pushed my frustration at Jauffre's orders aside, and focussed on my task. My letters were as brief as I could make them. I wrote of what I had discussed with Countess Valga, using similar wording, though I had not revealed in them that I was the fabled Hero of Kvatch. Word was likely to spread swiftly without my mentioning it, as it was, but I decided it would serve me better to remain quiet and plead humble on that regard.

Instead of using the courier system to deliver the letters, as I knew they would be intercepted no matter the safeguards I took, I gave them to Evangeline. As a member of the Mage's guild, she had access to alternate means of transporting messages around Tamriel. Naturally she wouldn't leave Chancellor Ocato's side for long, but she had assured me that the letters would be delivered, and I had to believe that she would be true to her word.

Life at the Tower adopted a routine, though it was far more restricted than the one I had lived within prior to the assassinations. I avoided all of the rooms that I had been familiar with while I had lived there. I wandered between a bedroom on the second floor that had been set up for me, and the library, to write and read and study. All of my clothing, books and jewellery had been brought down to the guest room. I didn't want to even think about venturing higher into the Tower for myself, as I was certain that the halls and rooms would still be full of reminders of the Septims, and I was determined to not be consumed by grief.

I had been assigned two bodyguards by the High Chancellor, and both were battlemages, like Evangeline; a Nord named Merete, and a Bosmer named Thalfin. Both women shadowed me wherever I went, silent in their shining steel armour and blue hoods. They stood by me while I wrote, read, dressed, ate, bathed, and one of them remained by me even as I slept, once I had become exhausted enough each day to sleep. Their presence eased my mind, but at the same time, I missed Caroline. Caroline had been my bodyguard, but also my confidant, teacher, and I would have liked to have thought, friend, for most of my life.

Once my letters were sent, I considered writing to Baurus to ask how his investigation to find the Amulet went. I would withdraw my hand before the quill had even been inked, remembering that such a letter would put him in danger and achieve nothing. He had said I was to contact him if I _needed_ him. Contacting him out of curiosity would be selfish of me.

I considered writing to Jauffre, to ask – beg - if there was any more I could do to help, but I knew that his answer would be no. I would have trouble getting a letter to Cloud Ruler Temple, too; sending a courier would be dangerous, and I had no idea where the hidden ancient base of the Blades was anyway.

So while I lingered in the Tower, waiting for the Elder Council to travel to the Imperial City from the provinces of Tamriel, I did some research. Baurus had said his investigation would begin by asking about a cult of Mehrunes Dagon worshippers, and so would mine.

I read a lot, but I couldn't find anything. I read through the entire _2920_ series, remembering that the Dunmer God-kings had done battle with the Prince of Darkness. _The Treatise on Ayleidic Cities_ contained another minuscule reference to a blade of Mehrunes Dagon, but nothing on his cultists.

I began to wonder if a cult even existed; that perhaps there was no connection between the assassinations and the Oblivion gates after all.

You can imagine my surprise, then, when a week and a half after I'd been left in the care of the Tower, on my eighteenth birthday no less, I received a letter, and a book, from Baurus.

Evangeline had brought the parcel to me, which was already open; she had searched it already, of course.

For a moment a part of me wondered if was a birthday gift, but I immediately cast the thought, and the copy of _Fire and Darkness_ that I had been flicking through, aside, and examined the book that he had sent. Nobody in the Tower had mentioned my birthday. Considering that it would have been my wedding day, I did not feel like celebrating anything either.

And the book Baurus had sent did not look like a gift. It was bound in deep red, and there was a gilded sun motif on the cover.

Just like the robes of the assassins.

This was it. _They_ were it.

 _The Mythic Dawn Commentaries: Volume One_ , I read, my eyes widening as I read the second line: _The path of the Mysterium Xarxes, by Mankar Camoran_.

Mankar Camoran? As in, Camoran the Usurper's fabled son? The same Mankar from _The Refugees_?

I tried to push my questions to the back of my mind, and instead tore open the letter that accompanied the book, as I sat back down at my desk. Merete was by my side at once, and I was dimly aware of Thalfin and Evangeline talking, in hushed voices, near the doorway.

 _My Lady_ , Baurus began. _I once again apologise for the manner in which I left you and I hope that you understand I was operating under instructions._

I frowned. I didn't blame Baurus for leaving me here; I blamed Jauffre, though even then, I knew that he thought he was doing what was right, as much as I didn't understand his reasons for lying to me. Jauffre probably thought that he was saving me, by sending me here.

_I shall deliver this parcel to Evangeline, as I think it best that I do not deliver it in person and incur the wrath of Cyrodiil's infamous Hero._

I rolled my eyes. So, he had not wanted to see me. He was probably worried that I would break down in tears in front of him.

_By way of apology, and as a plea for your assistance, I have included a book that I recovered under circumstances I do not wish to detail. In it, I believe, are clues that can direct us to the cult of Mehrunes Dagon, who I am now certain is behind the Emperor and his son's assassinations, and the Oblivion gate at Kvatch._

My eyes drifted to the book again; _The Mythic Dawn Commentaries_. So there was a cult, after all. They had certainly done well to keep themselves hidden.

_I am a warrior, not a scholar, and while I have read this book I cannot find any hints of a hidden meaning to it. I entreat you, my Lady, to study this book. There must be additional Volumes, and if they can be located, and decoded, we shall be a step closer to finding the Amulet._

My hands were shaking by the time I finished reading the note, for several reasons. I was relieved that Baurus had contacted me, and was more relieved that he was asking me for help. If I could be of use to him in this matter, perhaps I would not be as completely cut off from the search for the Amulet as I had thought I would be.

But another part of me quaked with fear, in the knowledge that there really was an organisation of people out there, plotting the rise of Mehrunes Dagon. That for months, perhaps years, they had planned the attack on the Septim dynasty, and likely knew exactly how many Oblivion gates they needed to open before their Daedric master would take hold of our world. It confirmed Baurus' assumption that the assassin had come for me in Skingrad, not only because of my prior connection to the Septim family, but also because I had successfully closed one of the gates that they needed, and they didn't want me to do it again.

What would they do now that I was telling everybody who would listen how to close them?

Two thoughts occurred to me at the same time; these maniacs would not easily give up the location of the Amulet of Kings; and they would do anything to ensure Martin was killed, before he was able to get back to the Imperial City. If Martin died, they would succeed.

We had to tell Jauffre.

I grabbed a fresh piece of parchment and a quill, intending on writing to Baurus at once; then hesitated.

I needed to study the _Commentaries_ , first. Again, I glanced to the book, my eyes drifting over the sun motif.

Baurus would not have asked if he didn't think I could be of some use, and he would have already sent a report to Jauffre if one was necessary. Though, he too may be waiting to find out more before risking sending a letter to Cloud Ruler Temple.

Ink dropped from my quill onto the parchment, and I shook myself out of my reverie, and put it back in the inkwell. No, before I talked to Baurus, I needed to consult some other people who knew about books.

"Merete," I turned to my Nord bodyguard. "Could you ask the proprietor of the First Edition to take tea with me, at once?" I asked her quickly. "I have some questions for him."

If this _Mythic Dawn Commentaries_ was a series of books, as Baurus had guessed, then a bookseller would know how to find the others.

"At once, my Lady," the stout woman replied immediately, with no trace of curiosity in her tone. The moment she left my side, Thalfin took her place.

Thalfin was a little more curious. "Does Baurus' letter bring good news, my Lady?" she asked. "Has he found the Amulet?"

I shook my head. "No," I murmured hurriedly, drawing _The Mythic Dawn Commentaries: Volume One_ closer to me, and opened it. Mankar Camoran's name blazed up at me again. I shuddered, and turned the page. "But he has found a lead, I hope."

Daedric lettering littered the top of the page, but I would find a translation for it later. I needed to read what I could, first.

_Greetings, novitiate, and know first a reassurance: Mankar Camoran was once like you, asleep, unwise, protonymic. We mortals leave the dreaming-sleeve of birth the same, unmantled save for the symbiosis with our mothers, thus to practice and thus to rapprochement, until finally we might through new eyes leave our hearths without need or fear that she remains behind._

I could see why Baurus had sent me the book. It read more like an epic poem than instructions.

_In this moment we destroy her forever and enter the demesne of Lord Dagon._

Lord Dagon. So it was true. I swallowed my fear, and made myself push on to the next stanza.

_Reader, this book is your door to that demesne, and though you be a destroyer you must still submit to locks. Lord Dagon would only have those clever enough to pause; all else the Aurbis claims in their fool running. Walk first. Heed. The impatience you feel is your first slave to behead._

Paragraphs of flowery words, introducing readers to the cult of Dagon, and telling them of the path they must take to ' _enter the demesne of Lord Dagon_ ' drifted over me as I read. And then, finally, there was a mention of the _Mysterium Xarxes_ , on which the _Commentaries_ were supposed to be a translation of:

_My own summons came through a book Lord Dagon wrote himself in the deserts of rust and wounds. Its name is the 'Mysterium Xarxes', Aldmeretada aggregate, forefather to the wife of all enigma._

A book that Mehrunes Dagon had written, himself. A book that spoke of opening the portals to Oblivion, which promised Paradise to those loyal to him. I shuddered again but kept reading.

_Endlessly it shall form and reform around you, deeds as entities, all-systems only an hour before they bloom to zero sums, flowering like vestments, divine raiment worn to dance at Lord Dagon's golden feet._

_In his first arm, a storm, his second the rush of plagued rain, the third all the tinder of Anu, and the fourth the very eyes of Padhome._

What did it mean?

_Come slow, and bring four keys._

His writing was incessantly redundant. I read the closing paragraphs - _Greetings, novitiate, Mankar Camoran was once you, asleep, unwise, protonymic, but Am No More. Now I sit and wait to feast with thee on all the worlds of this cosmos. Nu-mantia! Liberty!_ \- and let out a sighing breath, as I closed the book. Whoever Mankar Camoran was – son of the Usurper or not – he was insane. He thought he was walking amongst the Gods, and he had found a false god in a Daedric Prince. It almost sounded like he had died, as part of his experience, and thought that he had been born again, free, to do Mehrunes Dagon's work.

And he had attracted others to his insanity. A cult of worshippers who he had turned into assassins.

 _But what does it mean?_ I reminded myself of Baurus' plea, that I try to make some sense of the _Commentaries._ My initial perusal had unearthed no clues; only more questions. I sat back, staring at the back cover of the book, and hoped that the man from First Edition would arrive soon. If he didn't know anything about the other editions of the _Commentaries_ , perhaps he would be able to recommend someone who did.

I pushed the book to the side of my desk, wondering how Baurus had in fact come upon it; the circumstances that he didn't wish to repeat in his letter. He must have found a cultist, and taken it from them.

I re-inked my quill, and penned a short letter on a small piece of parchment.

 _To the proprietor of Luther Broad_ , I began, printing my letters neatly and with a great curling flare that was not my regular hand. _I would like to enquire about the health of Mr Rosewater._ I paused, re-inking the quill. _It is my understanding that he has taken up residence in your boarding house while he is ill. Sincerely,_

I paused again, wondering how to sign the letter. I couldn't sign my own name, of course. Or a name that anyone who intercepted the letter would recognise. Perhaps it would be all right to leave it unsigned?

I gave up trying to think of a name, and just scribbled with the quill a few times, thinking it would look like a hastily-drawn signature. I put the letter aside, to let it dry. It would be ready to send to Baurus the moment I had anything for him.

Then I read and re-read the _Commentaries_ until the proprietor of First Edition was shown into the study by Merete.

He was a Redguard man of about forty, dressed in very plain trousers and a more expensive-looking brown doublet. He looked quite harassed, and nervous, and it was no wonder given the behaviour of my bodyguards; the moment the man stepped into the room, Thalfin rested her hand on her sword hilt, and Merete pulled the hat from his head and pushed it into him roughly. He hurriedly grabbed for it, and held it to his chest.

"Peace," I told both Thalfin and Merete, rising and walking toward him. "I am grateful you could come at such short notice," I curtsied graciously and adopted a demure smile, hoping that Merete had not been too rude in gathering him. If she had, it would be more difficult to get any useful information out of him.

The Redguard still looked miffed, though he must have recognised me, because he lowered his head immediately. "Phintias Wayn, at your service, my Lady," he kept his head lowered.

I faltered, wondering if I should have called anyone at all. Word would get out that I was here, now. If it wasn't out already.

No matter, I told myself, throwing off the concern. Word would be out soon enough, once the Elder Council had assembled.

"Please, Mr Wayn, will you take a seat?" I asked, motioning to a small tea table in the centre of the room, and then asked Merete to find out where our tea was. The Nord woman inclined her head before leaving the room again.

Phintias raised his head and moved toward one of the seats at the table, giving Thalfin a wary look. When I took my seat opposite him, Thalfin stood next to me, her hand on the hilt of her sword the entire time. When Merete rejoined us, at that moment, she stood on my other side.

"Tea is on its way, my Lady," she said stiffly.

I wished I could tell my bodyguards to back off, but I knew they wouldn't, so I merely smiled again to try and put Phintias at ease.

"Mr Wayn," I wondered where to begin. "You are the owner of First Edition, in the Elven Gardens district?"

Phintias nodded. "I acquired the store several years ago, but before then I was an archivist at the Castle in Anvil. Books are my life," he swallowed.

I nodded, "That is fantastic news," I told him. "I am certain you will be able to help me in locating a number of rare books I am attempting to collect," I continued, hoping that the name of the series would not scare him off.

He nodded, and waited for me to continue.

"Have you ever heard of the _Mythic Dawn Commentaries_?" I asked him lightly, waving my hand toward the book on my desk, near the wall. "Apparently there are several volumes."

Phintias looked somewhat confused, doubtlessly wondering why I wanted anything to do with them. His response encouraged me; he must have, at some time, read, or at least heard of them.

"I have, my Lady," he confirmed.

I smiled, as tea was brought into the room by another one of Ocato's battlemages; this one wearing a green dress, in similar style to the red one Evangeline liked to wear. She wore a pair of daggers at her hips, and the cuffs of her dress were charred; the tell-tale signs of a fire mage.

Once a cup of tea had been poured for each of us, I raised my cup to my lips, before resuming our conversation. "As I was saying, apparently there are several _Commentaries_ out there, and they are exceedingly rare," I took a sip of tea. "I've managed to find _Volume One_ , but have you any ideas on how to obtain the rest?"

Phintias nodded, a little less uncertain than he'd been before. "There are four volumes, from what I've heard. The first and second are quite common, but the third and fourth are more difficult to come by," he faltered.

I noticed his hesitance, and leaned forward a little. "But, _you_ know where to obtain them?" I asked, trying to sound only mildly curious. I wished I could just ask him without such a...show. "Have you ever come across them?"

"Well, in fact, my Lady," he shuffled a little. "I sold a copy of the third volume this very morning. Was the only copy of it that I'd ever seen."

I tried not to let disappointment show. I could ask Baurus to track down the buyer. "That must have been exciting. Do you recall where you bought it from initially?" I tried.

Phintias shook his head. "But I have records I could check, if it would help."

I nodded. "That would be helpful," of course, I could get Baurus to go check those records for himself, too.

"May I ask, my Lady," Phintias started uncertainly, "what interest you would have in those crazy books? They're the ramblings of a madman, and not a very nice subject matter, if you don't mind me saying so."

I nodded. "I understand. It is purely academic, I assure you," my heart raced. "I am collecting the _Commentaries_ for a friend," I told him. It wasn't exactly a lie. "I am not interested in the 'subject matter' in the slightest, if that's what you're worried about," I added pointedly, though of course, this _was_ a lie, and I wondered now how I could ask him what he thought the _Commentaries_ meant, without rousing further suspicion.

Luckily Phintias offered some information I could use. "If it is the academics of the _Commentaries_ that interests you, my Lady, you should talk to Tar-Meena, of the Mage's Guild," he said.

"Tar-Meena?" I confirmed, replacing my tea cup on the table and folding my hands in my lap.

Phintias nodded, and then went on to tell me that Tar-Meena, an Argonian Mage with the Arcane University, was an expert in Daedric cults such as the Mythic Dawn who were discussed in the _Commentaries_.

That was good enough for me. I asked a few more vague questions, such as when the _Commentaries_ were published and when he had first seen a copy, then, once he had finished his tea, thanked and dismissed him. Seemingly relieved that our audience was at its end, Phintias promised to send me a copy of the second volume directly, of which he had several copies in stock.

"That would be very kind of you," I nodded to Merete. "Please return to First Edition with Mr Wayn and retrieve the book," I bade her. "See that he is well paid, for both the book, and his time with us this afternoon. You have been very helpful," I stood, and he rushed to his feet, turning his hat in his hands as he eyed Merete off uneasily.

Once Merete had escorted the rattled Phintias out of the room, I turned to Thalfin.

"Tar-Meena?"

Thalfin nodded. I had known she would know of the Mage, since she was part of the Guild herself. "Shall I summon her?"

I hesitated. "Can we trust her?"

"I believe so."

"Ok. Then yes, please ask for her to visit, and tell her..." I didn't want my bodyguards to make a member of their own Guild uneasy with evasive questions. "Tell her that we are investigating the cult of the Mythic Dawn, in connection to the rise of the Oblivion gates across Tamriel."

Thalfin nodded again, but her brows were crossed.

"Is something the matter?" I asked her.

"No, my Lady," she replied. "It is just, Tar-Meena may wonder why _you_ are investigating such a thing."

I shrugged. "Let her wonder," I sighed. "If she asks me directly, I can tell her the whole...Hero of Kvatch saga," I added.

Thalfin nodded, but didn't leave, and I knew that she wouldn't until Merete had returned.

I returned to my desk, and read through the _Commentaries: Volume One_ again.


	12. Tar-Meena

_Whosoever findeth this document, I call him brother._

I rolled my eyes. Volume Two of the _Commentaries_ was just as bad as the first. The moment Merete had returned with it, Thalfin had left, to contact the Mage's Guild, and I had started reading it.

Volume Two talked of a ritual, called the Ritual of Want;

_Whisper to earth and earth, where the meddlers take no stones except to blood, as blood IS blood, and to the cracking of bone, as bone IS bone, and so to crack and answer and fall before the one and one, I call you Dragon as brother and king._

Dragon? Did _this_ have anything to do with the Septims, who were Dragonborn, or was it a reference to Akatosh directly?

It would be a stretch if it was, I decided; the rest of the _Commentaries_ seemed to be talking only directly to initiates.

_Enraptured, he who finally goes unrecorded._

_Recorded, the slaves that without knowing turn the Wheel._

_Enslaved, all the children of the Aurbis As It Is._

I grimaced. Of course, it was a cult, so of course, it was obsessed with death heralding some sort of perverse rebirth.

When Thalfin returned, not too long after I had finished reading Volume Two, she told me that Tar-Meena planned to come by the next morning. I nodded, somewhat frustrated, wishing that I could simply leave the Tower and go to her, but my leaving had been strictly forbidden by the High Chancellor.

"Thank you. Could you run one more message for me, please?" I asked, reaching over the desk and folding the note I'd written earlier to Baurus. I thought twice about sealing it, then realised I couldn't; it was not supposed to be from me. I handed it to Thalfin and explained where to take it.

While I didn't have much for him, I had to tell Baurus about the third book being sold, and hope that he could track down its owner.

–

Unfortunately, Baurus didn't visit that evening, or the next day, and I had to wonder if he'd received the note about Mr Rosewater at all.

Tar-Meena arrived on schedule the next morning, though, carrying a book under one arm and a few notebooks in one hand.

The green-robed Argonian Mage was introduced to me by Thalfin, in the study, just after I had finished breakfast.

"It is a pleasure to meet you," I curtsied. "Has Thalfin told you why I asked for you?" I motioned for her to take a seat.

Tar-Meena nodded, sitting and handing me the book from under her arm. "That's why I brought this. It's from my private collection, and very rare, but you can borrow it for a few days."

I stared down at the book she'd offered, my eyes widening as I sat down.

_Mythic Dawn Commentaries, Volume Four._

I wanted to read it immediately, but restrained myself, instead placing the book on an empty seat beside me. "This is...exactly what I needed," I confessed. "Thank you."

The Argonian nodded again, but then cut straight to the point. "I am glad you contacted me, Lady Passero. I think we can both be a great deal of use to each other," she said. I sat a little straighter, wondering what I could possibly offer a Mage.

"As I'm sure Thalfin has told you," she indicated my bodyguard, then turned her red eyes back to me. "I am considered an expert in all matters concerning the daedra."

I nodded; it had been Phinias that had told me, but I knew it.

"And I have been lead to believe that you recently crossed over the daedric plane of Oblivion, during the Siege of Kvatch," she added.

This time, I didn't flush at the mention of my involvement in the siege, but probably because she hadn't called me 'Hero' yet.

"Yes," I answered her. "I went into Oblivion."

"And came back out of it," Tar-Meena added pointedly.

"I wasn't the only one to survive," I said plainly, telling her about the Kvatch guard, Ilend Vonius, whose courage had saved us both. Tar-Meena wrote down Ilend's name with interest, and asked me a few questions about him, but I knew little about him aside from his name.

Tar-Meena moved on, and started asking me questions about Oblivion; about the portal and what crossing over had been like; about the daedra we'd encountered in the Deadlands. As I talked, she wrote. When I talked of the lizard-like creatures that we'd encountered, Tar-Meena identified them as Scamps; when I talked about the various Dremora we'd encountered, she identified them by a class system they used in their own ranks, based on the weapons they wielded. I had no idea how she knew any of this, and was surprised that there were so many levels of Dremora hierarchy. I'd assumed that they were more disorganised than Tar-Meena made them out to be, given the seeming chaos of Oblivion.

It was easier, I noted, talking to Tar-Meena about Kvatch in this analytical way, than it was talking to anybody else about it. Tar-Meena didn't seem shocked by anything I told her, merely interested, and didn't ask why I'd gone through the gate to begin with. She seemed only interested in what I'd found on the other side, and the mechanics of the affair.

"Oblivion gates will continue to open now," I told her, "so long as the dragonfires are extinguished. Soon more men and women will be able to provide you with their own accounts of their experiences in Oblivion," I sighed.

"Yes," Tar-Meena put down her quill and notebook, "and this is why you are interested in the Mythic Dawn? They are behind this?"

I nodded. "We believe so. They stole the Amulet of Kings from where it was being hidden, a few weeks ago, which prevents us from bringing the Emperor's heir back into the City."

"They may have taken the Amulet for that reason," Tar-Meena looked thoughtful, "to prevent events from drawing to a close. But they may have stolen it for another purpose," she seemed to squint a little as she reached for Volume One of the _Commentaries_.

"Oh?" I sat up a little straighter.

Tar-Meena nodded, running her hand down a page, before she found what she was looking for.

She read, " _In his first arm, a storm, his second the rush of plagued rain, the third all the tinder of Anu, and the fourth the very eyes of Padhome. Feel uplifted in thine heart that you have this first key, for it shall strike high and low into the wormrot of false heavens._ "

"The Amulet of Kings is a key?" I asked. "To what?"

Tar-Meena closed the book. "It may be. Camoran's ramblings are vague, but I believe in this passage he is discussing items required for a ritual. Either the storm, or the rush of plagued rain, could refer to the Amulet."

I was having a hard time following the connection, and was terrified that the Amulet might have been destroyed for some darker purpose by the Mythic Dawn. "But why?"

Tar-Meena went on. "The Amulet is a very powerful object, my Lady," she said. "It contains the souls of all Emperors and Empresses that ever wore it, and the blood of Akatosh," she reminded me. "It represents the covenant between Cyrodiil and the Nine Divines," she added, then shrugged. "I can think of many reasons why such an object would be useful to a cult leader, and to a Daedric Prince."

I shook my head, realising that I'd told Tar-Meena everything. I'd only meant to tell her about the link to the Oblivion gates, but I felt I couldn't miss the opportunity to learn what I could from her. Which meant I had to be truthful. "They cannot destroy it. All would be lost. What else can you tell me about the Mythic Dawn?"

"Not enough, unfortunately," she replied. "They are secretive, and mad. Our understanding of their edict derives only from the four _Commentaries_ , and they are difficult enough to interpret as it is. But it is plain that they have gruesome initiation rites, to wheedle out non-believers, and do not fear death."

"But," a lump started to form in my throat at the task ahead of us, "there must be some way to find them."

Tar-Meena pointed to the _Commentaries_ piled on the table; books one, two and four. "Perhaps with all four books, it would be clearer. But I have never seen a completed set, let alone read them in sequence."

I stood, turning to Thalfin. "Please, go and find Baurus, _now_ ," I begged her. "We cannot wait any longer."

Thalfin inclined her head, then left the room. Merete took her place by my side, her hand on the hilt of her sword.

When I turned back to Tar-Meena, she asked shrewdly; "Baurus?"

I nodded, and remained standing. "Tar-Meena, if I could complete this set, would you be able to figure out where we can find the Mythic Dawn?"

Tar-Meena regarded me steadily, her red eyes flickering to the books for a moment. I held my breath.

"I could try."

I sighed. "Thank you. Now, I'm sorry, I have a lot to do," I held my hand up to the door. "I will let you know as soon as I have acquired the third book."

"But, where will you find it?" she asked hurriedly, standing and collecting her notebooks and quill. "I have not seen one for years."

"Really?" I asked. "Apparently First Edition sold a copy yesterday."

Tar-Meena gaped. "Why didn't Phintias tell me he had it in stock? Where did he get it from? I have been searching for that book for half of my career!"

The Argonian was irate.

I held up my hands. "We will locate it. We _have_ to locate it."

Everything depended on it.

–

Thalfin couldn't find Baurus.

I sent three more letters to the Luther Broad, asking for Mr Rosewater, and none of them were replied to. A whole day passed, and I went between reading the fourth volume of the _Commentaries_ , to pacing the halls, to practising archery with a target Merete set up for me in my room. It felt good to have my old ebony bow back in my hand, and target practise took my mind off everything else for a few precious moments.

At dinner that night, while my mind was busy elsewhere worrying over Baurus and how we would have a hope of tracking down the third book, days after it had been sold, Ocato reminded me that I was to address the Elder Council the next morning.

I made sure I didn't startle as I turned to him. I didn't want him to think I hadn't been paying attention. "They're assembled?" I asked.

Ocato nodded from down the table, as he cut into a piece of fish with his knife and fork. "Yes, for the most part. There have been several write with apologies saying they are unable to attend. But we are scheduled to begin tomorrow."

I paled. I had been so wound up in the _Commentaries,_ I hadn't even begun to think of what I would say to them.

Ocato cleared his throat, and spoke up again, more hesitantly. "When you address them tomorrow, you should wear your wedding dress, Sarina," he said carefully. "I will see that it's brought down to your room."

My heart thudded and my gaze locked on the High Chancellor. "Why?!"

Ocato smiled sadly at me. "Because of what it symbolises," he explained.

For a moment, I had panicked that I was being married off on the morrow. "Isn't that a little distasteful?" I asked, as my shoulders slumped.

The High Chancellor continued. "No, no - of course not. The Elder Council are all aware of who you _should_ have been by now," he said. "And they will enjoy the drama."

"I don't want to cause drama," I tried. "I want to warn them about the Oblivion gates."

Ocato smiled, as one would to a child, "Trust me, my Lady," he took another small bite of his food, chewed, swallowed, then continued. "The Elder Council will listen to your warning, no matter how you present yourself. But by reminding them of the life, the future, that was stolen from you," he held his hand out to me, "and what you have had to endure since," he added, "you will win their hearts. That is just as important, and you know it."

I didn't like this at all, but I didn't want to continue going around in circles with Ocato.

I nodded. "As you wish, High Chancellor."

"Excellent."

I tried to focus on my dinner, but I didn't feel like eating. I shuffled the food around on my plate a little, answering non-committally whenever Ocato struck up conversation. Soon enough the course was finished, and I stood, retiring for the night.

Baurus wouldn't come now, even if he had received my messages – it was too late. And I had to try figure out what I was going to say to the Elder Council tomorrow. Addressing a Countess in Chorrol on her own was one thing; addressing the Elder Council, the Empire's representatives from all over Tamriel, was another.

I wandered to the study and retrieved Volume Four of the _Commentaries_ , to read again before bed. It was not nice bedtime reading, but I told myself to keep trying, to see if I could determine a pattern, a clue; anything that might hint at where they had taken the Amulet of Kings or where they were assembling themselves.

After I had bathed and dressed for bed, I sat up and read.

_May the holder of the fourth key know the heart thereby: the Mundex Terrene was once ruled over solely by the tyrant dreugh-kings, each to their own dominion, and borderwars fought between their slave oceans._

A direct reference to the books being keys to something, and a mention of an era where daedra had ruled Mundus, that Mankar Camoran wanted to return us to.

I tried to will Baurus to arrive, even though it was too late, as I continued to read.

_For as Mehrunes threw down Lyg and cracked his face, declaring each of the nineteen and nine and nine oceans Free, so shall he crack the serpent crown of the Cyrodiils and make federation!_

This sounded as though Camoran was foreseeing the success of the current situation.

_Your Dawn listens, my Lord! Let all the Aurbis know itself to be Free! Mehrunes is come! There is no dominion save free will!_

I read the rest of the page with a frown on my face, and ran my hand down the last three paragraphs. He talked of a Time of Gates, which sounded like the now, to me. He related it to times past, when the daedra had been successful in overthrowing all in their way, and of the apparent freedom this bought the people.

How could anyone read these words and be filled with hope?

My hand trailed down the page again, somewhat sadly. I huffed a little to myself, realising that the flair on the last three paragraphs spelt out the word "SUN". Sun, like the blaring emblem the Mythic Dawn's members always wore on their breasts.

For all the pointless connections...I was finding patterns in letters, like a child.

I closed the book with a huff and put it on my bedside table, pulling the covers over my head and willing myself to sleep. Tomorrow would be a very big day.

–

_I am in Oblivion._

_The heat of the deadlands flares against my cheeks, and I scan the black and red of a tall tower in front of me, rushing into a doorway as a plume of lava rises and crashes where I've just been standing._

_Inside this tower, there are soldiers, wearing Legion armour, fighting Dremora. I look down at myself; I'm dressed in the white chain mail of a Kvatch guard, and am wielding a short sword._

_I run forward and join in the fight, slashing and dodging, my limbs moving of their own accord. With a few guards, my fellows, by my side, we fight our way to the top of the tower, battling Dremora and scamps._

_I see the Sigil stone, blazing white in its setting, and run for it, knowing that the ordeal will be over as soon as its taken away._

_As my hand grazes the white of the stone, a jagged blade is shoved through me, and I stare down to see the tip protruding from my chest. I scream in pain as blackness consumes my vision._

I gasped awake, swallowing cool air in great gulps as my eyes shot open.

Thalfin was by my side in an instant; a small Candlelight in her hand. "My Lady?"

I tried to measure my breaths as I stared up at the Bosmer, wondering if she was real.

Was I real?

I was in my bed. It had just been a dream. I blinked a few times and told Thalfin as much.

"I'm sorry," I added, but couldn't shake the fear that had caught in my chest.

Thalfin nodded and extinguished her spell. "Try to get a little more sleep, my Lady," she said. "It is still several hours before dawn."

I nodded in the darkness, my heart hammering in my ears.

 _I should probably refrain from reading the_ Commentaries _before bed,_ I told myself.

But what if it hadn't been just a dream, another part of me wondered? What if what I had seen was happening, right now? It had been nearly two weeks since I had sent out my letters to the leaders of Tamriel. How many gates had opened, and been closed in that time? How many people had gone to fight in Oblivion, because I'd told them they must, and died at the hand of the daedra?

It took me quite a while to get back to sleep.


	13. The Elder Council

I managed to sleep for a few more hours. Once the sun had risen, Merete woke me, and I saw that breakfast had already been delivered.

My face fell when I noticed what _else_ had been delivered.

The dress. It stood by the window on a stand, all reds and whites and golds.

I rose and trudged toward the dress that I should have been married in a few days earlier, my eyes glued to it and my feet moving of their own accord.

I remembered what Ocato had said, the night before, as I ran my fingertips along the bodice.

_"But by reminding them of the life, the future, that was stolen from you, and what you have had to endure since, you will win their hearts."_

I smiled, though it was bittersweet. My fingertips traced the fine white embroidery that had been worked into the white panels, to give the whiteness texture, the dressmaker had told me. Most of the dress' panels were made of this white embroidered work. It was really very beautiful, but I felt only a sick dread in looking at it now.

Merete caught my attention and made me eat something, but once that was done, I knew I'd have to put the thing on. Both Thalfin and Merete helped me into it, lifting it over my head so it could fall down around me.

It had a wide neck, and tight, full-length arms, all made out of the fine, embroidered white material edged in gold thread, and lined with deep red silk. The waist of it puckered in, and the skirt was full, but not overly wide, falling over my hips and to the ground in a natural, gentle wave. The skirt consisted of more long pleated panels of the white embroidered material, but where they separated, there were panels of red silk in between. More gold edging highlighted these panels. Once the dress was on, there were a few buttons to do up at the back, and then a belt, which was metallic, and plated gold so that it wouldn't be too heavy, that hung low on my waist covering the seam where the bodice puckered in and the skirt began. The belt was set with a few rubies and diamonds, near the clasp at its centre.

Once it was all on, I felt extremely heavy. I shuffled to the dresser, automatically, and saw myself in the mirror.

The dress was beautiful. One fit for a princess; elegant, rich, and subtle, with lovely lines. Certainly suitable for the girl who was marrying the Emperor's son.

I felt both sad and ridiculous, and I couldn't believe Ocato was making me do this. I sat at the dresser, putting the skirt out of my view for a moment. I worked hurriedly, piling my curls on top of my head with a few plain hairpins, to make myself look older, and fastening my mother's gold chain around my neck, so that the Passero seal was visible. I didn't usually wear makeup, but I felt that I had to put in the effort for the Council, and leaned forward to dust a little gold eye makeup on my eyelids, then lined the very edge of the top lid, close to my eyelashes, with a thin line of black kohl. I wiped a little dusky ochre over my lips, tinting them slightly, then rose to clean my hands. Next I put on the shoes; white slippers with barely any heel to them, decorated with scrolling embroidered white patterns, to match the gown.

I was dressed for my performance, but I didn't feel ready for it, and the no-longer-wedding dress weighed me down even more. Both Merete and Thalfin said something to me, something kind about the dress or my hair, but I didn't hear their words, and their tone indicated that whatever they said was out of duty anyway.

I looked back to the mirror, wondering where I would have been, had the Mythic Dawn not risen when they did.

Right at that moment I would have probably still been in bed, by Ebel's side.

I turned to the bed, and imagined that I could see him there. My face started to flush, despite my melancholy. I would certainly have no longer been a maiden, whether I had managed to love him before our wedding or not. Once we were wed, I had known that my duty was to bear him children.

Would we have had breakfast together? Would we have spent much time together at all, for that matter? Our days had usually been quite separate; mine full of tutors and lessons, and his full of...whatever it was he did. We usually either had tea together at some point during the day, or left the Tower to go riding with our bows and entourages, but otherwise, saw very little of each other.

I banished the image of Ebel and the memories of what I had thought my life would be from my mind. None of that was to be. I was simply the Lady of Rosethorn Hall, now.

Which made me start to wonder – why was I here? Sure, to relay the message about the Oblivion gates, but anyone could have retold my tale – someone who didn't need constant baby-sitting, even. Why were the Elder Council meeting today to hear me? Why were the Blades, and Ocato, so invested in keeping me alive? Because of the Emperor's final words?

Perhaps so. What other reason could there be?

If that was the reason, then I had to raise my head. I had to dispel the despondency. When I walked into the Elder Council chamber, I had to give everybody on that Council a reason to believe that I was important. That I was there, not because I'd been the last person with the Emperor when he had been killed, but because it had been my _destiny_ that I be there.

I nodded to myself in the mirror then, mustering some resolve, then made for the door, my two shadowing battlemages a step behind me.

I glanced at the bed as I neared the door. The image of Ebel sleeping there peacefully had reformed in my mind, his reddish-brown hair half covering his face, which was clean-shaven, for once.

It was funny how this image of him reminded me so much of Martin. With an ache to my chest as I turned away, I wondered what the last Septim was doing at that moment, as I headed for the Council Chambers to make everyone believe in him the way that I did.

–

Before we reached the doors to the Elder Council Chambers, they opened, and I gasped when I recognised the person who walked into the hallway, closing the door behind him hurriedly.

 _Baurus_. Finally, Baurus had arrived, but his timing couldn't have been worse.

When the Blade turned and saw us, he bowed low. "I am sorry it has taken me so long, my Lady," he rose, and I noticed a package under his arm. "I was not in the City for a few days."

The Redguard's brown eyes looked tired, and worried.

What was the matter, I wondered? I recovered from the surprise of seeing him, and hastened to him.

"Where have you _been_?" I asked. "I have so much to tell you, but I'm-" I glanced at the door he'd just walked through. I could hear earnest talking on the other side. Well, earnest arguing.

"Recovering this," Baurus caught my attention once more, when he showed me what was in the package he was holding.

_The Mythic Dawn Commentaries: Volume Three._

I gasped at the sight of it. "How did you know?"

His brow crossed in confusion. "Know what?"

I glanced at the door that lead to the Elder Council Chambers as a sharp bark of anger was heard over the muted sounds of conversation.

There really was no time to explain. I turned hurriedly to Thalfin. "Quick, summon Tar-Meena," I took the book unceremoniously from Baurus and handed it to the battlemage. "Tell her we've recovered all four books, and she must come at once. Set her up in the study," my mind was racing with excitement and nerves. "We will join her as soon as I'm done."

Thalfin's eyes flickered uneasily to the doorway to the Council Chambers and then back to me. "But my Lady, your address to the Council – you must have protection-"

I shook my head and indicated Baurus. "Baurus can take your place at the meeting," I cut her off again.

Thalfin eyed Baurus uneasily. Baurus didn't see her look; he was staring, quite taken back, at me; finally noticing what I was wearing, I assumed.

The doors to the Council chamber opened again, and Evangeline entered the hallway, wearing a dress of deep blue velvet edged in bronze, with delicately segmented chain-mail draped over her shoulders, that looked more like jewellery than armour. She paused when she saw the four of us standing there mid-conversation.

Then Evangeline cleared her throat and broke the silence. "Lady Passero? They are ready for you."

I nodded, putting my hand on Baurus' arm in passing, "Come with me," I told him.

I knew that he would follow. As we made for the Council Chambers, I even wondered if the Blade waited until this very moment to return to the Tower, deliberately. This way, he could be privy to the Elder Council meeting for himself, and report the details of it back to Jauffre, first hand.

The voices coming from within the Elder Council Chambers grew a little more hushed as we approached the open door; while my slippers made no sound on the smooth tiles, both Baurus and Merete's footsteps rang out behind me.

I pushed the _Commentaries_ resolutely from my mind and commanded myself to focus as I stepped into the chamber. I checked my expression; made sure my face was serene, and held my hands together in front of me. Casting my eyes around the room, I hesitated when I noticed all eyes were turned up, upon me; then quickly fell back into step behind Evangeline.

The room was bathed in light – morning sunlight from above, and fire light from lanterns that were set at intervals on the walls. There were no guards to be seen; only the representatives of the Imperial Empire from each region in Tamriel, Chancellor Ocato, Evangeline, myself, Baurus and Merete. I had no doubt that the doors leading into the White-Gold Tower were lined with guards, though, as they had been since the Septim assassinations.

Evangeline lead me into the light and showed me to an empty chair. My heart plummeted when I saw whose seat it was, and I clawed at my training to steady me, to ensure that I didn't outwardly react. It was the chair usually occupied by Ormellius Goldwine, former Count of Kvatch.

"Lady Sarina Passero," Ocato spoke formally from his seat where he always sat. "Betrothed of the late Prince Ebel, Lady of Rosethorn Hall, and Hero of Kvatch," he announced to the room.

_Oh. That's why they're putting me here. For Ocato's 'drama'._

My cheeks flamed and I wished that Ocato had told me he'd planned on calling me that. There were some disgruntled mutters from the Elder Council at the latter, and I hoped that the High Chancellor had not just made my task a whole lot more difficult. Presented as I was in the elegant wedding gown, with a battlemage on one side, and a member of the Blades on the other, they would never believe that I had chosen to leap into an Oblivion gate, or fought my way back out again.

I cast my eyes around the table, recognising the majority of the Cyrodiilian Counts and Countesses, though a few of the chairs were empty. Next to me was Regulus Terentius, the Count of Bravil, wearing green and brown silks, with his eyes slightly narrowed, and his chin raised imperiously as he regarded me. On my other side was Countess Umbranox of Anvil, in a fine, sky-blue dress, wearing an expression completely the opposite of Count Terentius'; one that was a picture of sympathy. Recalling that her husband, the Count of Anvil, had been missing for quite some time, I cast her a small smile, and wondered if it was better to know that your husband was dead for certain, or to wonder for years if he was still out there, since with the latter there was the potential for hope.

I recognised a few of the other delegates, from descriptions I had been taught of them, though I had met less than a handful of the Council who dwelt outside of Cyrodiil. The Duke of House Hlaalu was frowning thoughtfully; the Jarl of Solitude, his usually pale skin flushed, was staring; his eyes bright with anger (had he been one of the arguers I had heard before? It was likely). There were representatives from the Summerset Isles, Valenwood, High Rock and Elsweyr, but none from Hammerfell, or Black Marsh. Perhaps they had not been able to attend in time.

Perhaps they had not thought the City to be safe. Perhaps they had their hands full. Perhaps they'd not received the summons at all.

The High Chancellor remained standing, as he finished my introduction. "It is Lady Passero who has called for us to assemble today, at the behest of the late Emperor himself during his final moments. The rest, I shall leave her to explain," he nodded for me to rise.

I knew I was blushing again, but my eyes were trained on Ocato, asking him what he was doing. The mer didn't seem to be affected by my gaze, and I glanced away from him.

I was unable to stop my blood from boiling at his words. This wasn't how I had intended on starting my address at all. Did he think that we could win the support of the provinces for Martin, or win their hearts, by making them pity me? How were they to believe we had any strength at all?

 _Make them believe,_ I ordered myself. _It is your task, not Ocato's._

As Ocato sat, I stood, and cast my eyes over the sea of faces once again. "Thank you, High Chancellor," I said shortly, wishing my voice to be steadier than it was. I cleared my throat, imagining that the eyes in the room were not judging me. A part of me knew they were.

I had to tell them what we knew. They had to know that we were on top of this, or they would never agree to send their people into Oblivion until we asked them to do otherwise.

"Thank you all for coming today," I began, resting my hands on the table. "What the High Chancellor said is true. I was here when the daedric cult that we now know to be called the Mythic Dawn murdered the Septim family. I was with the Emperor, trying to escape the City, when they took his life."

Ocato seemed surprised at my choice of words, and that made me feel better, and stronger, for some reason. I ignored the murmuring that had begun and continued.

"The plot to assassinate Tamriel's Emperor and his heirs was devised by this cult of Mehrunes Dagon's, with the intention of extinguishing the dragonfires in the Temple of the One so that the Covenant between the Empire and Akatosh would break," I explained, amidst more murmuring. I could see that my words were serving their purpose; capturing their attention. "For it is this covenant that ultimately protects us from Mehrunes Dagon's plane of Oblivion. Without a Septim on the throne, to keep the dragonfires lit, the Prince of Darkness can begin to take his hold of our world."

I heard a frustrated, "What is this?" in an undertone, from one of the Counts down the table from me, but ignored him; the room was almost silent now. I heard the fabric of Countess Umbranox's dress shuffling, and saw her hand fly to her mouth.

It was time to tell them about Martin.

I swallowed. "But there is hope yet," I said encouragingly, glancing at Countess Valga, the only person in the room who wasn't reacting at this point, as she already knew most of my tale. She looked merely thoughtful.

"The Mythic Dawn did not research the Septim lineage extensively," I explained. "If they had, they would have discovered that the Emperor had another son, and had hidden him from sight."

This caused a reaction. The Elder Council were in charge of appointing a new Emperor, and so it was their duty to know everything about everybody who had the potential for succession. This is where I figured I would lose them if I wasn't careful, and was why I had mentioned the heir in the letters that I had sent out to them nearly two weeks earlier; to get them used to the idea, even if they had trouble believing it.

I raised my voice, over the din, and continued. "Only once the last Septim is returned to the City will the dragonfires relight, and _only_ then," I stressed, "will the Oblivion gates that have been spawning all over Tamriel cease to open," I needed them to understand how related the two events were. "If we fail to keep the heir to the throne alive, our people, and our way of lives, are forfeit to Mehrunes Dagon!"

"This is absurd!" the same voice who had muttered before shouted, and I saw that it was the Jarl of Solitude, from Skyrim in the north. "The Emperor has no other sons. This is the work of an usurper, trying to claim ownership of the throne!"

"Where is this would-be Emperor?" the Count of Cheydinhal, Andel Indarys, called across the table. "Why are we discussing this if he lives? If he is truly Tamriel's only hope, then let's crown the man and be done with it!"

I had only met Count Indarys in passing before, and the directness of his outburst made me like him. He was a man of action, and he clearly believed me.

I held his gaze. "The Septim heir is being protected in an undisclosed location by the Blades," I told him, in a voice loud enough for the whole room, "for he is only half of what we need to relight the dragonfires."

I told them of how the Amulet of Kings had been stolen by the Mythic Dawn. I told them that we believed they wanted the Amulet to stall our plans, and not that they may have wanted it for some ritual, for I needed the Council to believe that the Amulet was still obtainable. The Elder Council knew what part the Amulet of Kings had to play in the Covenant, so they realised then, without me having to explain it, why we couldn't coronate Martin straight away.

When one of the Council asked what we were doing to recover the Amulet, turning to Ocato, I cut straight back in, telling them that we had the expert on daedra and daedric planes from the Mage's college at this moment in the Tower, decoding the writings of the Mythic Dawn in order to unearth the location of their base of operations. At this, a few of the Council called out, offering their assistance in the recovery of the Amulet.

I shook my head. "There is a single, pivotal reason that I have asked you here today, and it is to do with the Oblivion gates themselves."

I took a deep breath. "The High Chancellor called me the Hero of Kvatch, when I came before you. Many of you will have heard the rumours, or read about the Siege of Kvatch, which took the lives of many of the city's inhabitants, including the good Count Goldwine," I spoke gravely. "Many of you will also have heard rumours that the Hero of Kvatch, the woman who closed the Oblivion gate and broke the siege, is, in fact, me."

I looked over the faces in the room again; they were silent, and watching. I could tell they had all heard it.

"It is true," I declared, a little more quietly. The room remained silent. "But what the rumours and the newspapers don't tell you is that my part in the battle at Kvatch was foretold by the late Emperor, as he clung to my hands and I watched the light fade from his eyes."

Recalling that moment; the Emperor's pleading blue gaze, apologising as he spoke those final words, gave me strength. I had not expected the memory to, for any other time I had remembered his last moment, it had brought me grief.

"He told me," I revealed, "that it was my task to close the Oblivion gates, which if we continue to do, will hold off Mehrunes Dagons from our world, indefinitely. This is not a task that I can do alone," I continued. "I am not a warrior. The plane of Oblivion is harsh and demanding, riddled with daedric hellbeasts that I would ask no man or woman to take on, if it were not imperative to our survival. Had I not been accompanied by the guards of Kvatch, I would have surely died there myself.

"But I did survive, so I can bring this message to you now, and I will continue to tell all who will listen to me how to close the gates. I am living proof that they can be closed," my voice rose. "This means that we need not stand by as our people and leaders are murdered by the agents of Mehrunes Dagon, while our promises with the Divines are pulled apart before our eyes. We _can_ fight back, and we can win!"

I was taken by the moment, feeling stronger than I ever had. While I had spent the better part of several weeks crying and worrying about whether or not we could retrieve the Amulet, I was suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of hope, in that we could overcome these obstacles if we were brave enough to believe that we could prevail.

The representative from High Rock asked how to close a gate then, and I wanted to thank her for directing the conversation to my next point. I described the concept of the Sigil stones to the Council members; from the yellow-white light that burst from the top of the blackened tower, to the removal of the stone from its pedestal, to what would happen next – the white light, and the dream-like waking. I described the daedra their people would encounter; scamps, and Dremora, and told them about the class system within the Dremora ranks, that Tar-Meena had told me about only the day before.

I explained what Jauffre had discovered next; what he'd told Martin and I in the Priory stables; about the small gates, which would be followed by a Great gate if they were not closed, and that it was preventing the Great gates from opening that would be the key to keeping Dagon at bay.

"I do not ask any of this lightly," I started to sum up, my throat feeling hoarse. I cleared it as I scanned the faces in the room once more for signs of disbelief. It was difficult to read their expressions now, and I remembered that of course, they were schooled, as I was, to maintain a look of sobriety in the company of their colleagues, so as to not give anything away. Now that the more startling of the revelations had been delivered, they had seemed to remember themselves. The exceptions were the Jarl of Solitude, who seemed to be a very emotional man; his eyes were shining and there were still traces of frustration there; and Count Indarys of Cheydinhal, who looked, of all things, utterly supportive.

"The moment it is safe to retrieve Martin Septim from hiding, we will do so, and bring and end to this," I promised. "But until then, I must ask that you tell this information to your Guard. Patrol your lands, and your borders. When the portals to Oblivion open, do not hesitate to close them.

"We can beat this," I finished. "We _have_ to beat this, or we sacrifice everything we hold dear to the daedra."

I bowed me head formally, "Thank you, Elder Council, and thank the Divines who have made it possible for me to deliver this message to you."

Chancellor Ocato flew to his feet as I sat, and a few of the Council members began to talk with each other in lowered voices. The Jarl of Solitude fired up, asking the High Chancellor if he would provide additional Legion guards to meet the needs of this threat or if they were expected to throw their own people into the jaws of death.

I exhaled shakily, staring at my hands, which were still gripping the edge of the table.

Countess Umbranox leaned toward me. "Your mother would be very proud of you, Sarina," she said quietly.

I tried a small smile in reply, but my mind raced at her comment.

 _No, she wouldn't_ , I huffed to myself. She would have been like the Jarl down the table; demanding aid, or like the Count of Bravil on my other side, full of pride and contempt.

 _But she doesn't matter_ , I added, trying to shake off the nervousness gnawing at my stomach. _She is dead, and I have done my duty._

The High Chancellor gave up trying to restore order to the session, and called for a recess. An arm was immediately held out to me, to help me to rise. I turned up to see Baurus, leaning down and offering me an escape, with a hard, determined look on his face.

I took his arm and tried not to rush, as I remembered that he had brought the third book of the _Commentaries,_ and that we had work to do.

Baurus lead me from the room, and Merete flanked my other side; their presence dissuading any of the Council who might have wished to speak to me privately from interrupting my exit. I felt bad for leaving when I did, and leaving the High Chancellor to deal with the follow-up questions when he only knew a little more than they did, but I couldn't stay and make idle chatter when we were so close to finding the Mythic Dawn.

If Tar-Meena had been able to come immediately, she may have already located them. The sooner we found the Amulet, the sooner this would be over.


	14. Green Emperor Way

"It is no use," the Argonian Mage said in frustration, throwing her quill down on the desk in front of her. "Mankar Camoran's ramblings are impossible to decipher. It is a wonder the madman has any following at all."

"Perhaps you must _think_ like an initiate, in order to understand him?" Baurus mused. "The man I retrieved the book from thought I wanted to be initiated, and was speaking to me as though I was a drunkard."

Tar-Meena gave me a look that asked why I was making her theorise with a man whose function was brawn over brains.

I answered quickly. "Hmm," I mused. "Perhaps it is only possible for those who already worship Dagon to find the cult?"

Tar-Meena shook her head, her red eyes flashing. "That does not make any sense," she fired quickly. "The _Commentaries_ are not addressed to those already devout. They are intended to lure in and trap the weak, the feeble-minded, and the desperate."

"So then we must try to think in _that_ way," Baurus answered.

Tar-Meena looked like she wanted to throw something at Baurus. I put my hand on the Argonian's arm gently. "Tar-Meena," I tried. "perhaps we are trying too hard. You are right," I placated. "The _Commentaries_ are not aimed at scholars or warriors. So it stands to reason that any directions within them are simpler than we think."

Tar-Meena turned her eyes back down to the open copy of the third volume before her. I looked at it myself; the words _The Dragon's Blood have hidden ascension in six-thousands years_ glared up at me and I shuddered.

"Then let us step away from the ramblings of Camoran, and look at this again," Tar-Meena said in a strained voice. "We must look for a more simple pattern," she turned her red eyes to me. "Have you seen anything, hidden in the books during your reading? Anything at all?"

I paused, thinking back. The books were supposed to be a door, as Camoran put it. There was the mention of the four items, which were required for the ritual the books spoke of, but Tar-Meena already knew more about that then I did, since she'd been the one who suggested the Amulet had been stolen to be a part of that ritual.

"What about the four Daedric words, that are at the start of each book?" Baurus questioned. "Do you know what they say?" he asked the Argonian, leaning forward to look at the third volume for himself.

"Dagon, Altadoon, Chim, Ghartok," Tar-Meena answered swiftly, pointing to each book as she translated each word. "Something about the hand of Dagon, and a heavenly weapon. They indicate the _Commentaries_ themselves, in this case, I think we'll find."

"Damn," Baurus muttered.

We fell into silence, and I stared down at the fourth volume of the Commentaries, which was in my lap. I had not had a chance to change out of the absurd wedding gown yet, and the binding of the _Commentaries_ was like a bloody slash against the white.

I ran my hands down the closing paragraphs, certain that the guidance to the Mythic Dawn initiates must lie there, since Mankar Camoran would have wanted them to read through to the end before locating him.

_Suns were riven as your red legions moved from Lyg to the hinterlands of chill, a legion for each Get, and Kuri was thrown down and Djaf was thrown down and Horma-Gile was crushed with coldsalt and forevermore called Hor and so shall it be again under the time of Gates._

_Under the mires, Malbioge was thrown down, that old City of Chains, slaked in newbone-warmth and set Free. Galg and Mor-Galg were thrown down together in a single night of day and shall it be again under the time of Gates._

_Nothing but woe for NRN which has become The Pit and seven curses on its Dreugh, the Vermae NI-MOHK! But for it the Crusades would be as my lord's Creation, Get by the Ge and do as thou wilt, of no fetters but your own conscience! Know that your Hell is Broken, people of the Aurbis, and praise the Nu-Mantia which is Liberty!_

"Sun," I mumbled, noticing once again how the last paragraphs spelt out the symbol of the Mythic Dawn. Perhaps the sun had something to do with it.

"Sun?" Tar-Meena turned her head to me.

I pointed to the letters. "S, U, N," I felt silly, but at the same time, compelled to point out anything at all. "The Mythic Dawn wear the emblem of a blazing sun on their breast. The last three paragraphs first letters spell out the word 'sun'. Is that deliberate, do you think?"

Tar-Meena's eyes widened, and she leaned over to read the book in my lap. Baurus also hurried to my side.

I watched the Argonian with interest, as her eyes roved the page. There was a gleam to them.

"What is it?" I asked hurriedly. It had revealed _something_ to her.

Tar-Meena eased herself back, and said evenly to me, "Read out the letters of _all_ of the paragraphs in that book."

My heartbeat quickened as my eyes roved the page. M, I, D, D, A, Y, S, U, N.

"By the Nine!" I gasped. It wasn't folly!

"Midday sun?" Baurus said. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing, on it's own," Tar-Meena hurriedly grabbed her notebook and retrieved her quill from the desk. "But we have all four books now. Read out the letters again, my Lady."

I did so, and Baurus grabbed for the first volume of the _Commentaries_ , reading as soon as I'd finished.

"G, R, E, E, N, E, M, P, E, R, O, R," he closed the book with a snap, and I leapt up, holding my hand out for another of the books.

"W, A, Y, W, H, E, R, E," I rattled off.

"T, O, W, E, R, T, O, U, C, H, E, S," Baurus closed the third volume.

Tar-Meena sat back, while Baurus and I both dashed forward to look at what was written. I'd been too excited to make words of the letters when I'd been reading them.

"Green Emperor Way where Tower touches midday sun," Tar-Meena sighed. "It's been under our noses the entire time."

I shook my head, "That's _here_ ," I pointed to the start of the clue. "Green Emperor Way," I turned to Baurus. " _We're_ in Green Emperor Way, right now," I told him, disbelieving. They couldn't be based so close to the White-Gold Tower, could they?

The three of us stared at each other a moment, and then, as one, made for the exit to the study.

Merete and Thalfin were right beside me.

"My Lady, you must not leave the Tower," Thalfin reminded me.

"But this is more important than-!" I started.

"No!" Baurus turned on his heel and held his hand up. "Wait here, my Lady," he spoke very quickly. "We don't all need to go."

I looked to the window in anguish, then turned back. "But it is nearly midday!" I looked imploringly to Tar-Meena. What if the Amulet was there? We could recover it and leave immediately. If I didn't go with them now, Baurus was likely to leave me here, locked away in the Tower.

Unfortunately, Tar-Meena agreed with Baurus and my bodyguards. "If this is the hidden base of the Mythic Dawn, it will be far too dangerous for you go there," the Mage said. "Remain here."

I glanced back to Baurus at once, feeling on the edge of tears. We couldn't waste time arguing. I had to relent. "Return to me at once, Baurus. Promise me," I said sternly.

Baurus nodded immediately in agreeance. Then they were gone.

When the door closed, I let out an enormous breath I hadn't realised I'd been holding, and picked up the front edge of my dress so I could run back across the room, to where the desk and our study material lay.

I stood on the chair Tar-Meena had been sitting at only a moment ago, and then climbed up onto the desk, minding not to step on any of Tar-Meena's documents as I picked my way to the window.

Merete was by my side in an instant, holding onto my legs to steady me. "My Lady?"

Thalfin was also by my side. "Get down, you will hurt yourself!"

I shook my head, frustrated, placing my hands on the window sill and peering out into the courtyard below; into Green Emperor Way.

It looked decidedly normal. My eyes raked over the path for any sign of Baurus and Tar-Meena dashing by, but I saw only Legion guards, marching by occasionally.

"Merete – get her down. My Lady, please!" Thalfin was saying.

I looked up, peering at the sky through the glass and shading my eyes from the glare. The sun was high, and in my field of view.

Both Merete and Thalfin hauled me off the table then; the Nord battlemage cradling me in her arms before depositing me firmly back on my feet on the flagstones.

"The shadow of the Tower," I realised, looking up to Merete. "It will be on the other side."

Merete nodded. "Be patient a moment longer, my Lady. Baurus will return."

"And if he does not?" I fired quickly.

"Then Tar-Meena will," Thalfin answered pointedly. "She has left all of her notebooks here."

I checked the desk she'd been studying at, that I had been standing on; Thalfin was right.

Merete lead me to a chair; I sat and sighed with relief.

One way or another, I would find out what was in Green Emperor Way at midday and what it was the shadow of the Tower pointed to.

–

"It's a tomb, my Lady," Baurus told me, as he re-entered the study, no where near as animated as before.

I glanced beyond him as I stood. "Where is Tar-Meena?"

"She remained at the tomb," Baurus answered. "She said she needed to draw what she saw, before it faded."

There _had_ been something, then. "What did you see?" I asked, my breath catching in my throat.

Baurus walked toward me, a grim look on his face. "A map," he revealed, indicating that I should sit again.

I did so automatically; my heart pounding in my chest. "A map to where?"

"It was only a small, partial map," he shook his head. "It was of a lake. There was a dotted trail indicating where to go," he added, then hesitated. "And...a word."

I nodded for him to continue.

Baurus eased himself into the seat opposite me, and met my eyes. "Arrius," he said stiffly.

I leapt up at once and found a map book. "Arrius?" I confirmed. "As in Lake Arrius?" I asked Baurus.

Baurus made a sound of ascent, then added, "Yes, my Lady."

"I wonder how they are hiding their activities, so out in the open?" I mused, moving back to the chair and flipping through the map book as I did.

Baurus didn't answer.

I pushed the book across the table to him, and leaned over it, pointing with my index finger. "There," I said, looking up to him. "Lake Arrius. Not far from Cheydinhal."

Baurus nodded, and still remained silent.

I sat back, worried at his sudden inaction. "Baurus, what is it?"

He looked grave. "I must leave at once, my Lady."

I understood why he was so hesitant all of a sudden. He'd been like this when we'd entered the Tower, before he'd told the Chancellor that I was to remain here indefinitely under his protection.

"We," I corrected him, squaring him with a look. " _We_ must leave at once."

"You know that you cannot come with me," he said quietly. "I can't take you into the den of these daedric worshippers, who would kill you as soon as they saw you."

I stood, heat rising in my cheeks. "I am the Hero of Kvatch," I told him. "I went into Oblivion, and came out again. I found Martin Septim, when nobody else would," I continued, my eyes feeling bright, but not with tears for once. "I will do whatever I must, to ensure Tamriel is made safe again."

Baurus was staring up at me with widened eyes. I wondered how ridiculous I must look to him, in my not-wedding dress, telling him that I was determined to fight, even if I couldn't fight with strength of steel.

I brought my point home, remembering words Jauffre had said to me, when I'd begged him to send another to Kvatch. "The Emperor saw something in me that nobody else saw," I started. "That perhaps nobody else _wants_ to see in me," I added. "I do not have to come into the den of the Dawn if it will pose a risk to both of our lives," I gave Baurus some room for negotiation. "But I will not be left here, cowering, when I am able to help you, and help the Emperor."

I was reminded of Martin's sullen realisation back at Weynon Priory, when he'd been told that he also had to run and hide while others fought for him. They were trying to do the same thing to me.

If Baurus went to Cheydinhal without me, and found the Amulet, he would ride immediately for Cloud Ruler Temple.

I might never see Martin again. The thought made my breath catch in my throat. The memory of him taking my hand and pressing his forehead to mine, his breath warm on my skin as he begged me not to go forced its way into my mind. I had promised him then, that I would return.

"My Lady," Baurus started slowly, unaware of where my thoughts had lead me. "I appreciate the sentiment, but what possible assistance-?"

"What if the map to Lake Arrius points only to another clue that must be decoded?" I fired. "What if you need resources, or Septims, or a swift audience with the Count of Cheydinhal?" I continued, paling when I realised another reason he had to take me with him.

"What if you need something to bargain with?" I swallowed.

Baurus shook his head, but before he could speak I continued.

"No, Baurus," I held up my hand. "Perhaps this is what the Emperor saw in me."

I tried not to think of what might follow being traded for anything with the Mythic Dawn. "Perhaps this is what he meant by 'save him'," I added.

Baurus stood. "I won't hear of this," his dark skin looked flushed. "I am under orders from the Grandmaster to leave you here at the White-Gold Tower."

"Damn Jauffre's orders!" I cut him off. "I am a part of these events, whether you want to believe it or not, Baurus."

My eyes widened as I realised what assistance I could offer the Blade, then and there, which would expedite our journey, and ensure we arrived as safely as possible. "And I know how to get us more quickly into Cheydinhal," I added, turning to Thalfin.

The Bosmer was frowning and had clearly been following our argument, but smoothed her expression instantly when I faced her.

"Thalfin, could you find Count Indarys for me, please?" I asked her. "Ask him if he will come to us. Tell him..." I trailed off, biting my bottom lip. Counts and Countesses would not be ordered about.

"Tell him that it is regarding the location of the Mythic Dawn," Baurus supplied, guessing my intentions. "That Lady Passero requests his specific assistance with a matter involving the Amulet of Kings and thus, the whole of Tamriel," Baurus looked at me with a pained expression. "Is that enough drama to persuade him, my Lady?"

I gave him a hurt look, as I took my seat again across from him. He sat as soon as I did, looking frustrated.

"There is no dissuading you from this, is there?" he asked me plainly.

I shook my head. "No."

Baurus raked his hands over his tired face and groaned. "Jauffre will have my head!"

I realised that he was no longer fighting with me, but fighting himself. Which meant that I'd convinced him that I could be of further assistance. Which meant that I would be leaving the Tower with him.

"I can deal with Jauffre," I sighed with relief. "Thank you."

Baurus sighed a long, deep breath himself then. "I would have died for the Emperor that day, willingly, if it could have saved him," he told me, in a lower voice than before. "I believed in him," Baurus looked up at me then, resolved. "He believed in you. And so must I."


	15. To Cheydinhal

Count Indarys arrived at the study not long after Thalfin had left to find him, and I wondered if she had retrieved him from the Council chambers, and if they were back in session there.

I was reminded of the Count's supportive and proactive manner during my address to the Council, and smiled as he entered the room, rising from my seat and bowing low, as was required of me.

"Count Indarys," I greeted him. "Thank you for your haste. Please, take a seat," I indicated the chair next to mine. Baurus was occupying the one opposite me – though he was currently standing and bowing to the Count as well.

"Lady Passero," the Count flicked a curious glance Baurus' way, before turning back to me and stepping forward, to duck into his own lavish bow. "It is my honour."

Something in his manner made me wanted to giggle at him, but I made sure that I didn't. My eyes were the only part of me that betrayed my amusement when he rose.

The Count moved into the room, and I studied him. I had seen him at a few social events over the years, but had never spoken to him. He was a member of House Hlaalu of Morrowind, and the only Dunmer, and furthermore only non-Imperial Count in Cyrodiil. He wore robes of the finest blue velvet, embroidered in places with gold thread, and his dark hair rose from the middle of his head, combed back to trail down his neck, while the sides of his head had been shaved to baldness.

The Count waited for me to sit before taking his own seat, but Baurus remained standing.

I turned to the Count and stared into his dark red eyes. In the corner of my mind, where I stored information about the nobles of the Empire, I remembered that his wife had died several years ago, leaving him with a loud, loutish son about my own age, that he doted upon.

"Your invitation intrigued me, dear Sarina," he called me by my first name, as our greeting, and introduction I supposed, was complete. "Is it true? Am I to understand that I may be of service to you in the recovery of the Amulet of Kings?"

I nodded. "Yes, Count Indarys, it is true," I retained his title. "We have at this very moment discovered the location of what we believe to be the hideout of the Mythic Dawn," I tread carefully. "The trail has lead us to Lake Arrius, in your county."

The Count was naturally shocked, and promised whatever assistance he could offer to weed out the scourge and retrieve the Amulet from them. He seemed both livid and mortified that such an organisation could exist in his region, and eager to be of any assistance that he could to rectify the matter.

Baurus stepped into the conversation then, and he and the Count discussed how we might travel into Cheydinhal and not attract any unwanted attention. The Count was quick to offer us a place in his returning entourage, in which we could be disguised. Once we were within the walls of Cheydinhal, I could remain at the castle in the Count's care, until Baurus was able to return for me.

We mentioned nothing of the notion that I might have to be used as a trade with the cult, in order to secure the Amulet for Martin. I had meant it, when I had offered myself up, but we both knew that it was something that would remain between only Baurus and I. Despite the panic that gripped me at the thought of being given to the Dawn, I reminded myself that I had promised to do whatever was necessary. Retrieving the Amulet and getting Martin on the throne was all that mattered.

Once our travel plans had been formulated, the Count rose. "I will tell my people that we depart for Cheydinhal at once," he promised, bowing lavishly again as he took his leave. "If one of your handmaidens will accompany me, Sarina, I can have her return with disguises for both you and your Blades bodyguard."

I stood and bowed in thanks, not bothering to correct him and explain that Merete and Thalfin were my bodyguards, and Baurus was not. "Thank you, Count Indarys," I turned to Thalfin. "Would you please go with the Count and do as he said?"

Thalfin nodded, her eyes amused. I was relieved that she wasn't affronted.

I exhaled with relief when the Count left and the door was closed behind him, and turned to Baurus with a smile on my lips. "That worked perfectly."

Baurus gave me a wry look, but didn't explain it, instead only saying. "I hope that by the time he has organised his people, we are not already too late."

I hoped so too.

–

Thalfin returned shortly after with heavy Dunmer armour for Baurus and a lighter set for me. We were to dress as Cheydinhal guards, and leave the Tower with the Count, joining the rest of his party at the gates. Merete took me back to my room to change while Thalfin took Baurus somewhere where he could do the same.

I poured myself out of the wedding gown, throwing it in a heap on the bed, hoping that I would never see the dress again in my life.

Then I threw on the disguise. There was a simple pair of leather boots, leather trousers, a tan shirt, leather doublet with the plaited green and gold Cheydinhal crest painted on it, and arm bracers suitable for an archer. There was a dark brown cowl, which I left on the bed for a moment, as I rushed to the mirror and pulled the pins holding my hair up out.

Merete assisted me, smoothing my hair back once it was free, and with a burst of green from her hand, the curls turned straight, and blacker than midnight. I watched her in the mirror, as the Nord pulled my hair back from my face and started to knit it together. I handed her a piece of cloth from the dresser at her request, and she wound it around the hair at the back of my neck, securing it in a low braid. After that, I threw on the cowl, adjusting it over my shoulders. The Passero seal was around my neck still, underneath my clothing, in case I had need of it, and the two rings Jauffre had given me were back on my middle fingers. I felt safer with them on, but I pushed on a pair of gloves at the last moment, to keep them out of sight.

I stood in front of the long mirror in the room as I wound a dark brown leather belt around my middle, and inspected the disguise.

I looked like an Imperial trying to hide who I was, but the next part of the plan was for Thalfin, whose Alteration magic was the strongest in the Tower, to make Baurus and I both look Dunmer.

I had nothing to pack, and tucked a handful of Septims into one of the pouches on the belt, before sheathing Caroline's dagger next to it. All of my clothing, and even my riding gear, was too formal, and I couldn't take the _Mythic Dawn Commentaries_ with me. I had left them with a note and a bag of Septims in the study for Tar-Meena to collect when she returned to retrieve her things, thanking the Mage for her assistance and gifting her the completed set. It was the least we could do after she had helped us so much. I had made a mental note that if life ever returned to normal, I would send some of my wealth to her every year to support her research.

I hurried from the bedroom and ran down the hallway with Merete. We entered the Council chambers, and I was relieved to see that the morning's session had ended. Otherwise I would have had to waste time explaining what was going on to the entire Elder Council.

Luckily the only people within who were not to be part of our party were the High Chancellor and Thalfin. Baurus was talking urgently with the former, on one side of the room. I turned away from them, locating Count Indarys, and strode purposefully toward him.

"Lady Passero!" Chancellor Ocato had spotted me. I kept moving toward the Count, but flicked the High Chancellor a glance as I moved across the chamber.

I frowned. "Do not try to stop me, Ocato," I said warningly. "Count Indarys may consider it an offence."

The Count nodded cordially to me as I reached him. I bowed my head to him in reply, thinking, _please back me up_.

"But my Lady!" Ocato reached the Count's side just after I did. "Think of all of the people who have risked their lives to keep you out of harms way!" he exclaimed. "Was their work in vain?"

I shook my head. "You can't make me feel guilty about this," I said. "I'm doing what the Emperor asked me to do."

I noticed that Thalfin was by my side then, and turned to her. The High Chancellor gaped and rounded on Baurus, trying to convince him – again, by the sounds of it – that he was being irresponsible and going against a direct order from his Grandmaster by letting me leave the Tower with him.

"I am ready," I told my bodyguard, who I realised I would be leaving, perhaps forever, in a matter of minutes.

Thalfin wasted no time, and placed her hand on the top of my head. I closed my eyes as I felt the warm glow of an Alteration spell wash over me, and tried not to gag as I felt the magic flow through my nose and down the back of my throat. It was a much stronger spell than Jauffre had cast on me at the Priory, but then that spell had only changed the colour of my hair and eyes, not my entire race. My ears and eyes stung, and when Thalfin removed her hand, I turned to Baurus, who still looked like himself.

"Well?" I asked him.

He actually smiled. "Your own mother wouldn't recognise you."

I huffed and rolled my eyes at his choice of words. "Your turn," I replied.

He stepped forward, and Thalfin worked her magic on him.

When she stepped back, I wanted to laugh – out of shock – but managed to stop the laugh from escaping by clapping my hand to my mouth.

"How is it?" he asked me.

I didn't recognise him. At all. Alien red eyes stared back at me from shadowed eye-sockets, above high cheekbones and an angular chin. With amusement shining in my eyes, I lowered my hand and grinned at him. "You're perfect. Let's go."

I turned to the High Chancellor, thanking him for his assistance. Merete handed me a bow of elven design and a quiver of steel arrows, as I made my farewell.

The High Chancellor looked defeated. "This is most unnecessary, Lady Passero. Were I not completely aware of what was at stake, I would be offended," he said, in a wounded-sounding voice.

I apologised and reminded him that all that mattered now was closing the Oblivion gates long enough to make Martin Emperor. The message I had been given was delivered, and so my time in the Tower was at an end.

Ocato grimly agreed with me with a nod, but said nothing.

Then Baurus, myself and Count Indarys left the White-Gold Tower together.

–

Count Indarys' party consisted of a coach, driven by an Imperial man and drawn by two black horses, and an entourage of about ten guards, who were dressed in the same style as Baurus and I, all bearing the Cheydinhal crest somewhere on their uniforms and shields. Most of them wielded short swords, but a couple of them had bows by their sides and quivers on their backs, as I did. Each member of the Count's guard rode a fine-looking horse, most of which were wearing armour, too. Baurus and I were given similar horses.

I idly wondered if Patch would be all right in the City stables, but there was simply no way I could take her with us. She might be recognised.

Count Indarys climbed into the coach without a second glance at the two additions to his party, and we rode out of the Imperial City, heading north and then east around the top of the City, to join the main road east. Cheydinhal was not far from the Imperial City, when compared to Kvatch or Anvil, and our party travelled at a decent speed.

As we left the region, the sun began to sink below the horizon, and I wondered if we would reach Cheydinhal before the thick of night was upon us.

It wasn't likely.

I manoeuvred the black armoured horse I was riding along the queue, slowing to ride beside Baurus'. For a moment we rode along in silence, merely maintaining the pace of the rest of the party. We were travelling too slowly for Baurus' liking, I could tell.

"Do you think we will ride on through the night?" I asked him.

Baurus nodded, and once again I was amazed at how completely Dunmer he appeared to be, under the effects of the Alteration spell. "There is nowhere for us to stop along the way. We should reach Cheydinhal before nine, perhaps, if we continue at this speed."

I nodded and angled my horse a little further away from him, so we were spaced out more like the rest of the guard surrounding the Count's carriage.

We continued east, as our shadows disappeared and the wan light of twilight took hold of the landscape, turning the road, trees, rocks, and our party, shades of muted blue. Count Indarys' guard seemed entirely relaxed, given their postures, but as I observed them, I noticed one or two of them swiftly scanning either side of the road at intervals, and knew that they were on the look out for trouble.

Once twilight shifted into night, the guards lit a few torches, and one was wordlessly handed to me by a Bosmer male who was moving to each guard to distribute them.

I nodded my thanks to the man, and held onto the torch, somewhat grateful for it. It was very dark out on the road, and neither of the moons had risen yet.

As the Bosmer guard moved forward in the queue of guards, to hand a torch to the guard in front of me, a faint whistle cut through the air. Before I had turned toward the curious sound, the Bosmer who had handed me the torch went rigid, and then fell from his horse.

I screamed, dropping my torch.

The Cheydinhal guards were immediately on alert, and halted their horses. Two of the guards dismounted to check on their fallen comrade, and another hurried back to the carriage, telling the Count to remain inside.

I realised we were under attack (but from who?) and grabbed for the bow and an arrow from my quiver. Before I had raised either, Baurus was by my side, grabbing my horse's reigns.

"Ride!" he commanded, as he leaned down and spurred his horse forward. My horse leapt into action beside him, and I dropped the arrow I'd been nocking as I leaned forward and clung onto the horse's neck.

"We have to help them!" I yelled to Baurus over the noise of the hoof beats and the shouts of alarm behind us.

Before Baurus could answer, we were engulfed in green light. Our horses froze, then toppled.

I fell away from my horse and landed badly, my wrist twisting under me, and I cried out at the _crunch_ noise that it made and the searing pain that accompanied it. I grit my teeth as tears welled in my eyes, from the stabbing pain in my wrist, and scrambled up, rushing to Baurus' side. He hadn't gotten up, and I saw that he was paralysed, as were the horses. His unfamiliar Dunmer eyes were wide as they searched me frantically; the only part of him that seemed to be able to move.

 _Run_ , his look commanded.

I shook my head, trying to drag him toward the treeline with my good hand. My bow would not help us if I'd broken my wrist in the fall, so I had to get us out of sight and hope we wouldn't be tracked. We had been very lucky that the paralysis spell hadn't hit me.

Then I felt the spell coalesce over me again; a wash of thick, green light that felt like a gust of icy wind.

I turned and ducked, stilling, as the spell came again, and cascaded over Baurus and I a third time. I glanced around frantically for its caster, but I couldn't see anything in the darkness of the woods beyond the road.

I gave up searching and tried to drag Baurus away again, crying out in effort as we shifted, inch by inch, toward cover.

 _Why isn't the spell effecting me_ , I wondered in the small space at the back of my mind that wasn't focussed on getting Baurus off the road. We were still too far from the edge to be clear, and our only possible cover from here would be the fallen, paralysed horses.

Instead of another paralysis spell, something else emerged from the woods to the north; three figures, cloaked in darkness, two of which ran straight for us.

I let go of Baurus and stood over him, unsheathing the sword from his belt and holding it desperately out in front of me, in the hand that didn't have a broken wrist.

"Get back!" I screamed at them.

One of the figures slowed and fired another green-hued spell at me, but it washed over me without having any effect.

As the figures drew closer I recognised the detail on their robes; the blazing sun motif of the Mythic Dawn. It was the Emperor's murderers. Ebel's murderers. The people who would kill whoever they wished, to gain the favour of a daedric prince. The people who would kill Martin.

A hatred I had never thought myself capable of feeling roared through me like wildfire and I screamed, surging forward. I swung Baurus' sword at the robed figure who had shot the spell at me.

The figure dodged, and I was instantly grabbed around the waist from behind by one of his fellows. I was lifted up off the ground as the strong arms wound around me, making it impossible for me to swing the blade again.

I kicked my legs and tried to swing out of his grasp, and he cried out and shook me, hard. The motion caused the blade to fall from my grip, and then the other cloaked figure, the one who I had taken a swing at, was in front of me, though I could see little more than his mouth in the shadow of his hood. I glared up at him through rage-filled eyes, ready to die before I told them anything.

"This little Dunmer is _full_ of fire," the figure said with amusement. I realised with a shock that of course, I was still under the effects of the Alteration spell. _They didn't know who I was._

The third figure, who had stepped from the forest but not approached at once stepped into view now, standing over Baurus. "The same cannot be said for this one. Knock her out and bring them all. We can use them, especially the Count."

The figure crouching over Baurus rose, but I saw no more as something heavy pounded into my head, and I was knocked into unconsciousness.


	16. The Shrine of Dagon

The stabbing pain in my wrist, a dull throb in my head, and a crushing force on my body woke me. I stared frantically around me and realised that the press on my body was more bodies; the Count's guards, by the looks of their uniforms. Were they dead, I wondered? Or merely paralysed still?

I stopped trying to break free when I heard voices approaching.

"...quite a good haul," one of them was saying. I heard footfalls next, and then several people entered the room I was in. "One of which was the Count of Cheydinhal himself, of course, and another was a woman who managed to somehow ward off the effects of Galinor's paralysis spell."

"The Count is already undergoing preparation," an elegant female voice cut through the air. "Show me where this Dunmer is, who resisted the spell? We could use a girl with spirit in the ritual."

I froze, as the bodies above me were pulled aside by several pairs of hands; and then I could see them. Red-robed men, two of them, with their hoods down and the golden suns on their breasts glaring at me like a pair of hateful, all-seeing eyes.

I tried to crawl back, now that I could move a little, but only crashed into a stone wall behind me. I knew that there was nowhere to go, but I couldn't stop myself from trying. The men laughed at me, as I cowered against the wall, and I heard an impatient sound from the woman who had asked to see me. I glanced up to her.

She was Altmer, bearing that ageless quality that all Altmer seemed to possess, and was dressed in red, though there was no blazing sun on her robes. No, her robes were richer, as were her gloves, and her jet-black hair was tied back from her pointed face, piled high on her head, making the sharp angles of her face and eyes more pronounced. Her full lips were downturned, as though she wore a perpetual frown.

Her golden eyes flashed with recognition as we caught each other's gaze, and she stormed across the room, pushed the men out of the way, and wrenched the cowl from my head.

"You idiots!" she screamed at the two men. "Do you not realise who this is?"

I raised a shaking hand; the skin I could see between the end of my glove and the start of my shirt was pale. I was me again.

I glanced at the woman again, my eyes wide with fear, but she wasn't looking at me. She was staring daggers at the two men in the room, waiting for their response.

They said nothing, looking to one another and shrugging. I wondered if it had been they who had captured us on the road to Cheydinhal, since I hadn't been able to see their faces in the gloom.

Without warning, the woman grabbed a fistful of my hair, and I screamed as she dragged me to my feet.

"This," she snapped, ignoring my scream as though I hadn't uttered a sound, "is Sarina Passero," she identified me to the men. "The one my father has been sending you idiots on mission after mission to retrieve!"

Her eyes turned on me then, my hair still enclosed in her fist, and I winced as she twisted her hand cruelly, to enforce her hold. "And here you are, come to us. Praise be; this is a sign from Lord Dagon himself."

I glared up at the Altmer woman at the mention of Mehrunes Dagon.

"I am of no use to you," I grated, but my voice was shaking, and I was ashamed at how small I sounded. "I'm not a Septim," I said in a rush, despite knowing that it hadn't been the only reason that they had wanted to kill me. But I had to try. "Why are you seeking me?"

The Altmer woman frowned down at me, casting me a look of pure hatred. "You think _that's_ why we've been hunting you? You little fool," she spat, throwing me out of her grasp.

I protected my broken wrist with my other hand, as I landed on my knees in front of the two male cultists.

"Prepare her," the woman commanded them. "Lord Dagon _thirsts_ for her blood."

I shuddered as large hands grabbed me and I was hauled up by the bigger of the two men, and settled on my feet. He was clearly a Nord; enormous and blonde, with pale blue eyes. The other was a Dunmer; thin, with a pointy face and glassy red eyes.

I didn't know what to do. I could barely move, the fear was so great in me. Prepare me for what? Was I going to be tortured until I told them everything I knew?

Tears sprung to my eyes as I realised that I should have listened to Baurus, and the High Chancellor, when they had insisted that I stay in the Tower. I should have heeded Martin's warning in the forest that night.

Who did I think I was? I wasn't a fighter, despite what I had done in Oblivion.

"Come on, _my Lady_ ," the Nord slurred. I screamed in pain as he grabbed me by my arm and twisted me in front of him.

"And don't either of you _dare_ defile her," the Altmer woman stopped them pointedly, as I was being dragged from the room by the Nord. "The blood of a virgin is worth ten times its volume to Our Lord than any other. I do not need to tell you what _her_ blood will be worth to Him, or how you will be punished if you attempt to take what is His."

The Nord holding me grunted in displeasure, and threw me toward the Dunmer cultist. "You bring her," he ordered.

"And be quick about it!" the Altmer woman called out, as the Nord walked out, and the Dunmer grabbed me by the back of my neck, and lead me out in front of him as though I was a puppet.

What came next was seen through a haze of panic and disbelief. My feet shuffled as I was guided along a winding path through a cave network, with the Nord's tall form blocking my view. I heard little of what they said, though a part of me registered that they were taunting me.

We arrived at a room containing several long, low altars. Count Indarys was laid out on one of these alters, dressed in a long white tunic, still under the effects of a paralysis spell, I assumed, for he wasn't moving. There were two other people in the room, wearing the trademark robes of Dawn cultists, who hurried forward when they saw us enter the chamber.

The Nord stopped in front of one of the altars and nodded to the cultist leading me. The Dunmer's fingers tightened around the back of my neck, as he guided me toward the altar.

The other cultists reached us. "Where did...is this?" the figure, a woman, said from underneath her hood.

"Yes, yes," the Dunmer turned me to face her, still by my neck. "Our Lord Dagon delivers."

My bottom lip shook and I held my arms around me protectively, as the woman reached forward and took my chin, examining my face. "I wasn't doubting _that_. Let go of her."

The two men stepped away from me, both leaning against the wall casually, to wait for me, I supposed. I squealed when the other figure who'd approached when we entered grabbed for my waist and started to lift my shirt.

The woman slapped me across the face. "Keep still, or we will make you still."

I quaked and felt a stinging heat where her hand had struck me.

"Perhaps that would be easier," the one who'd grabbed for me said, as he placed both hands securely on my waist again. I closed my eyes and bit my tongue to stop from crying out again.

"Oi," the Dunmer cultist called out. "Lady Ruma has given strict instructions that she's to remain unsullied. Lord Dagon wants all of her blood, as she is."

"Don't tell us how to do our jobs," the woman called warningly across the room.

Through a blur of tears, I was stripped down to my smallclothes, though the Passero seal was left around my neck. I supposed that Dagon wanted that, as well. When the woman found the rings on my fingers, she laughed, holding my hands up. "A Dunmer who can resist paralysis? Oh, you idiots," she called out to the others. "She has enchanted rings!"

The woman turned back to me, though I still couldn't see her eyes. " _Somebody_ was trying to keep you safe," she commented, pocketing the rings in her robes.

I held myself, shivering, and wondered how far I would get before they killed me if I ran. At least then this would be over, and Mehrunes Dagon wouldn't get his sacrifice.

 _They won't kill you if you run_ , I told myself. _They'll paralyse you. The rings can't protect you from inside her pocket._

A long, thin white shift with loose, elbow-length sleeves was shoved over my head, and I cried out in pain when the man who was helping prepare me grabbed my arm and wrenched it through the sleeve.

The woman's head snapped up at my shriek, and then she grabbed my wrist and inspected it. I bit my bottom lip, hard, trying not to scream again.

"Well," she said idly. "This won't do at all."

Then she _healed_ me. If I had not been so terrified, I would have gaped at her. But then I realised, with a pang of dread that made me want to throw up; I was to remain...unsullied, as they had put it. They wanted me to be healthy, before they sacrificed me.

I was pushed back onto the altar, and laid out along its length. I lay there shivering, silently crying as the woman ran her Healing spell down along my body. I clenched my eyes closed, desperately asking myself what I could do; how I could get out of here. The glow of Healing magic reminded me of Martin, and I choked back a sob, as I realised that I would never see him again, and he would never know what had become of me. I had _promised_ him I would return, I remembered, as my chest ached and my body continued to quake in fear.

There was nothing I could do to help him from here. So I prayed. I silently _begged_ Akatosh to save him, since I could not.

"Stop your blubbering," the woman said harshly, but at least she didn't slap me.

 _Why_ , I asked desperately in my mind, but didn't speak the words. What difference would it make if I cried?

The woman 'tsked' when I didn't stop crying, and I felt another sort of magic flow over me; the green, thick icy breeze that had been used to attack our party the night before.

My eyes flew open, but then...nothing. I was stone. The tears I had been crying dried on my cheeks. I watched, immobile, as the woman finished Healing me, and heard her speak to the two who had lead me there when she moved out of my field of view.

"She is ready."

Before they descended on me, I heard another noise; a sharp whisper through the air. Then there were cries of alarm; and rushing of feet, and then the sounds of fighting.

The noise drove me insane as I stared ever-upwards at the rocky roof, not knowing who was fighting or winning. Were the Mythic Dawn turning on themselves? Was it daedra?

The noise died down as quickly as it had begun, and Baurus swam into view. "My Lady?"

I wanted to cry, leap up, and throw my arms around him, but I was still frozen by the paralysis spell. I could hear people moving about the room, and hoped – _knew_ – that it must be the other Cheydinhal guards, seeing to the Count.

_Thank the Divines._

Another person – one of the Count's guards – appeared on the other side of me, and cast a spell; bright red, that washed over me like a warm bath. When the light faded, I could move again.

I blinked my scratchy eyes as Baurus dragged me off the altar and onto my feet.

"Baurus, what's going on? How did you-?" I gasped, falling onto him as my feet gave out beneath me. "My feet!"

Baurus held me up. "You're in shock," he announced, ducking down to look into my eyes. "Did they hurt you, my Lady?"

I shook my head as I gripped hold of Baurus' arms. "I'm...no, they healed me, for some...some sacrifice," I explained.

Baurus' mouth formed a thin line and I knew I was in for an 'I told you so' later, if we made it out of here alive.

I steadied myself against him, and felt some feeling return to my feet. "How did you get away?" I asked what I had tried to ask him earlier.

Baurus shook his head. "There's no time for this. Here," he left me to rest against the altar, and moved to a wall, grabbing a bow from a stand there. My eyes followed him as he grabbed a quiver with a couple of arrows in it from a nearby table. He returned and handed them to me.

"Can you walk yet?"

I nodded, easing myself onto my feet. "I think so."

"Good," he turned his eyes to the door. "Stay close to me."

"Baurus, the ritual," I said urgently. "They are going to be looking for...for me," I added hurriedly.

Baurus didn't ask me to follow again, and moved to the other guards, who were reviving the Count. Count Indarys looked to be in shock as well.

"You, get him out of here," Baurus hissed to one of the guards. "The rest of you – with me."

The guards followed his orders without question, and I hurried to the side of the woman who'd been preparing me and retrieved Jauffre's rings and Caroline's dagger. I slipped on the rings, and put the dagger into the quiver, since the shift I was in had nowhere to put anything. My bare feet pressed against the cool stone of the cave tunnel shakily as I stood and shouldered the quiver, readying the bow with an arrow.

 _Why isn't Baurus making me leave with the Count_ , I wondered suddenly? _Maybe he needs an archer_ , I answered myself.

 _Or maybe he is planning on using you as a hostage_ , another voice crept into my thoughts. _To trade with Mehrunes Dagon, for the Amulet. Isn't that what you promised him you would do, if it came to it?_

I pushed the thought that I might still be sacrificed aside resolutely as I ducked down behind Baurus, and crept through the tunnels. Any time there was signs of movement, Baurus raised his hand for us to come to a halt, and we waited for each pair of red-robed cultists to move along before we continued on again. After a while, the pathway opened up into an enormous cavern, lit by hundreds of flickering lanterns.

Members of the Mythic Dawn sat on rows of pews in front of a raised dais, where an Altmer male stood in front of a blood-splattered altar, wearing rich blue robes and speaking with his hands held high.

_Around his neck was the Amulet of Kings._

I drew back my arrow silently, targeting the Altmer wearing the Amulet, realising that _this_ must be Mankar Camoran. The madman who'd written the _Commentaries_. The one who's fault this entire crisis was.

I saw red, but before I could loose my arrow, Baurus put his arm over my bow, making me lower it.

I glanced at him questioningly, trying to shake away the rage I was feeling. Baurus shook his head at me sternly, then held his fingers to his lips.

"Praise be!" Mankar Camoran was saying, from the cavern beyond. "The Dragon Throne is empty, and we hold the Amulet of Kings."

Frustrated, I leaned forward. "I have a shot," I told him in a hiss. "We have to act, before they find I'm gone or destroy the Amulet!"

Baurus gave me an annoyed look, but shifted to one side. I took this as a sign that I could proceed, and shuffled forward, drawing the arrow back again and targeting Mankar Camoran's head.

"Hear now the words of Lord Dagon:" the Altmer continued, unaware, "'When I walk the earth again, the faithful among you shall receive your reward: to be set above all other mortals forever. As for the rest...the weak shall be winnowed; the timid shall be cast down; the mighty shall tremble at my feet and pray for pardon.'"

I grimaced, exhaled a shaky breath, and loosed the arrow.

He must have heard me, somehow, for he turned immediately; his eyes on our hiding spot.

He could see me; see into my soul. His eyes bore straight into mine, and a small smile curved on his lips as my arrow headed straight for him. He held up his arms, and turned his face to the roof of the cavern. Time seemed to slow down.

"I shall return with Lord Dagon at the coming of the Dawn!" his voice boomed and echoed around the cavern.

The world shifted. The space in front of Mankar Camoran blurred, then twisted, then a portal formed around him.

Then the portal was gone. So was Mankar Camoran.

So was the Amulet!

My arrow soared through the air, past where he had been standing, and hit the back wall of the cavern with a small _chink_.

Baurus cursed, as the cultists watching the ceremony leapt out of their seats, crying out, trying to figure out what had happened. I drew another arrow hurriedly as Baurus and the other guards that had come with us tore past me, screaming as they charged into the room to attack. Another archer stayed back with me, firing over their heads, felling a cultist before anyone understood what was happening.

I fired then, cursing myself for waiting; for being so slow. If only I had loosed the arrow a moment sooner. If only I had loosed it when I'd first sighted him.

Another one of my arrows found its mark. The archer next to me sidled forward, and sideways into the cavern, making for the dais and altar Mankar Camoran had been standing over.

I hurried after him. There was far more room to shoot from up there. As I ran, sparks and flames from spells being cast around the room flew by my face. I ducked and wished that I had some armour; the shift I was in wouldn't protect me at all if I was hit.

The other archer and I hid behind the bloody altar, leaping up at intervals to fire more arrows into the room. The metallic smell of blood and the sharp smell of destructive magic flooded my senses.

When I loosed my next arrow, I allowed myself a quick glance around the cavern. We were winning. I spotted Baurus, screaming as he tore through a cultist with the two swords that he wielded.

I loosed another arrow, which found a cultist's neck, and crept forward a little further from the altar, hiding behind the dais. I stood and fired my last few arrows at Mythic Dawn agents. I burned with anger at them, at Mankar Camoran, and at Mehrunes Dagon; and was furious with myself for _yet again_ failing to stop the man with the Amulet. We had been so close!

When I was out of arrows, I assessed the cavern. There were barely any cultists remaining, and no more magic was being fired across the room. The guards and Baurus were finishing them off, and chasing them out of the cavern as they tried to flee. I rested my hands on either side of the dais, and did a double-take when I noticed what lay upon it.

A book. Large and impossibly old, it was bound in gold with a daedric symbol on its cover. Overwhelmed by a fierce curiosity, I opened the cover and looked down at the two single pages within.

My mind was filled with a rushing noise, like the ocean, and then the daedric language overtook the sound in a hateful, guttural, grinding snarl of a voice. There was a whisper I could understand within the sounds of the harsher syllables; Mankar Camoran's voice, echoing in my ears, his voice seeming so close to me that I had the notion he was standing behind me, reading the book over my shoulder.

 _"Come slow and bring four keys. Know that then you are royalty, a new breed of destroyer, whose garden shall flood with flowers known and unknown, as it was in the mythic dawn!"_ he cried.

I wanted to slam the book closed, but instead my eyes roved over the symbols on the page; daedric letters, scrawled in red and black, placed in circles and cut through with lines and more symbols.

 _It's the Mysterium Xarxes_ , I told myself.

Then Baurus was by my side, and his hand was on my shoulder, turning me to face him.

"My Lady?" he panted, out of breath.

It had been the distraction I had needed; I tore my eyes from the book, and slammed it shut. "Baurus, it's the _Mysterium Xarxes_ ," I told him. "The book written by Mehrunes Dagon," I pointed a shaky hand at it.

Baurus shook his head at me. "What does it matter?" he glanced at the book, then back to me. "The Amulet is lost," he added, with some pain in his tone. "All of our efforts must be focused now on closing Oblivion gates," he said, resigned. "Not even a Septim can save us now."

I shook my head, my eyes still wide. "No, we can do this," I told him, as I pointed at the book again. "This is what Mankar Camoran used to open that portal he fled through," I explained. "If we can use the book to open the same portal, we can follow him."

Baurus looked uncertainly between me and the book again. "Can you read it?"

I paused. "The book spoke to me, but it was overrun by Camoran's ramblings from the _Commentaries_. Perhaps with a little time..." I bit my lip, staring down at the cover.

This seemed to be enough for Baurus, and he took hold of my arm, indicating that we leave. "Bring it, then. Perhaps Jauffre will know what to do."

"No," I told him, as I grabbed the book and held it to my chest. "We must get it to Tar-Meena. She has the best chance of translating it out of anyone-"

"There is _no more time_ , my Lady," Baurus cut me off, as he turned back to me angrily. "I have failed," he held his hands out to me. "I have to return to Jauffre."

I looked down at him sadly. He was going to blame himself for this?

"Before I take you _anywhere_ ," he continued, "I must report the loss of the Amulet, and all that has happened here, to the Grandmaster. _Please_ , my Lady!"

I could see the sorrow in his eyes now, and so I nodded, and let him lead me out of the shrine to Dagon, leaving the Cheydinhal guards to sort themselves out. We hurried along the stone passages in silence, and exited the cave, into daylight.

"You can stay with the Count, in Cheydinhal, if you wish," Baurus pointed out across the Lake – Lake Arrius, I assumed. I could see a pair of Cheydinhal guards walking around the lake in the distance. "It is not far. I should only be a day or two."

I shook my head and saw that he had started walking in the opposite direction. I ran after him.

"I'm coming with you to Cloud Ruler Temple," I insisted.

Baurus laughed as I reached him, but it was a desolate sort of laugh that I didn't like one bit. "As you wish, my Lady," he replied with a sigh and a shake of his head.

I felt like snapping at him for his hopelessness, but before I could form a rebuke I heard a whickering noise, and then a neigh. I hesitated, then turned, running toward the sound.

"Baurus, horses!" I exclaimed.

I climbed a small rise behind the cave entrance, and spotted a makeshift stable yard below it.

My eyes widened in shock when I recognised one of the horses. It was _Tor_! I had thought I would never see my mother's horse again.

Baurus raced past me, opening the gate, and grabbed the reigns of the first horse he saw.

"Come on!" he called to me as he mounted up.

I ran straight for Tor, tucking the _Mysterium Xarxes_ into an empty saddlebag that was on the giant stallion's back. The horse turned his head to me in recognition, nudging my arm roughly with his nose, almost in accusation.

"Shush, it's all right," I crooned as I adjusted Tor's saddle strap, and then grabbed the reigns.

"You can ride with me, or..." Baurus trailed off.

I turned to him once I'd mounted up, wondering what was wrong now, and saw his eyes flickering uncertainly between the monster of a horse, and me. "Yes?" I asked hurriedly.

"It's nothing, my Lady," he recovered quickly, then took the lead, leading his horse out of the stable at a walk.

We rode north-west, toward the Jerall Mountains, gratefully leaving Lake Arrius behind us.


	17. Cloud Ruler Temple

I was frozen to the saddle. We had ridden further and further north throughout the day, along the road that would lead us to Bruma. Surely, I thought, we would reach Cloud Ruler Temple soon. The Blades' stronghold would be in Cyrodiil, not Skyrim, wouldn't it?

I lay myself low over Tor as the icy wind tore past us, whipping at my hands, legs and feet. When we neared Bruma, Baurus lead us to the stables and stopped for the first time since Lake Arrius, but didn't dismount. The stablemaster appeared at the sound of our approach, and Baurus talked to him, asking to buy some food, and boots and a cloak for me, if he had any to sell.

The stablemaster gave us a wary look, and I didn't blame him. Here I was on a monster of a horse, shivering in a white shift, tearing along the road north with a Redguard man wearing Dunmer armour. To add to the riddle, both of us were, in places, splattered with blood.

Whatever he thought of us, he didn't say it or ask anything, as Baurus handed him a bag full of Septims for his wares and co-operation. The stablemaster hurriedly gave Baurus the items he'd asked for, and Baurus in turn handed them to me with barely a glance; but what I did see was grim.

I pulled the boots on, taking bites of the braided bread I'd been handed, all from Tor's back, then threw the cloak over my shoulders and tied it hastily, while Baurus thanked the man for his assistance and began to lead his horse out of the yard.

I felt a little warmer and wanted to thank Baurus once we were on the road, but I didn't get a chance. We rode north again, at speed, through the trees and around rocks, along any bits of path we could find but for the most part, making our own. The air grew even colder and drier, and soon flurries of snow carried by winds that howled through the trees stung my exposed cheeks and hands and legs.

Eventually the sun set. I turned around to look at the pink and golden clouds behind us and gasped; we were so high! I had been concentrating so hard on our winding path and fast pace that I hadn't realised we'd been gradually climbing up the side of one of the Jerall mountains.

Perhaps we _were_ going into Skyrim?

Behind me I could see Bruma – the spires of the chapel and turrets of the castle - lit up but hazy and indistinct, barely visible over Bruma's immense wall. In the failing light of day, the wall looked like a smudge of darker shadow against the landscape. I wondered suddenly if Eyja had made it home to her family, and with a pang of guilt, hoped that she was safe within those walls.

As I turned back around in my saddle and leaned down over Tor again, I noticed Baurus directing his horse away from the path we'd been following. He picked out a trail through the dense trees, and I urged Tor after him.

We climbed at quite a steep angle for a time, before we broke through the tree line, onto a new path, littered with large, crumbling, age-worn grey stone steps. We ascended the ancient pathway, our horses' shoes making clopping noises against the stones as they landed.

To one side of the wall, the earth fell at a sharp angle; the rise we had just climbed in a zig-zag, to join this new path. To my other side rose a vertical wall of rough grey stone; one of the mountains; so steep in places that nothing living clung to it. The failing twilight cast its gloomy purple shadows over the entire landscape before and either side of us, but when I craned my neck up, I saw that the very top of the mountain was crowned with a smear of bright golden light. The mountain was so high that the sun had yet to set on its peak.

The darkness deepened within the crags of the mountain as we rode on in silence, and then suddenly the rock took form; the jagged vertical lines seamlessly shifting into a wall of straight, smooth bricks. I glanced at Baurus riding in front of me; he seemed unaffected by the structure, and offered no explanation. I turned my eyes back to the wall of stone, following the curve of it with my eyes. The seam of the wall met a tower that rose higher than the wall and loomed above us, and when I knew its form, I could make out another, just beyond it. Both towers were capped with arching roof turrets, and flanked a recess which Baurus turned us into when we reached it. It was an enormous gateway.

I had not even realised the structure was there, until we were upon it.

I gasped, leaning back and trying to see to the top of the towers while we paused in the entry. "Is this it, Baurus?" I asked in a hush, as he stopped in front of the huge wooden doors, and again, didn't dismount. He beat his fist against the door four times, and after the silence of our approach, his knock boomed in my ears as it echoed around the entryway.

He didn't answer me, but obviously, yes; this was Cloud Ruler Temple.

With the sound of metallic gears turning, the giant doors parted and slowly swung in. When the gap in the doors was large enough for a horse to enter, Baurus urged his mount through, and then up a tall flight of wide, stone steps.

I directed Tor after him. As we ascended, the Temple within the walls swam into view and I tried not to gape as my eyes flitted over the buildings, uncertain of where to look or what to take in first. The Temple had been completely obscured by the front gate and walls. It looked like a castle - a well-fortified one - all grey brick and slate tiles and arching turrets. Braziers littered the grounds at ordered intervals, made of dark, twisted iron, and were blazing brightly, casting flickering patches of gold and orange over the structure before it. The main Temple rose grandly into several stories, supported by wooden columns and lined with decorative tiled arches, with plastered facades that were littered with windows. To the left of the main building stood a stout stable, and to the right there was an open courtyard. At the top of the stairs were a few guards, who shifted toward us as we approached, wearing the familiar uniform of the Blades; their armour gleaming as the fire light caught it.

Baurus dismounted as soon as his horse had ascended the final step, and I followed suit, clinging onto Tor as I turned and reached for the saddlebag that contained the _Mysterium Xarxes,_ untying it. I felt wobbly, being both fatigued and windswept, and from riding all day, but I was otherwise unharmed. I didn't want Baurus to think he had to come over and catch me again, so I braced myself against Tor, and took a deep breath.

He had more important things on his mind, and I really needed to toughen up.

"Sarina?" a female voice called from the assembly of Blades hovering around and greeting us.

I turned hastily toward the surprised voice, beaming as I recognised it.

"Caroline?" I asked hopefully.

It _was_ Caroline! My bodyguard hurried through the crowd to me, and I threw my arms around her neck with relief.

"You're alive!" I said in a rush.

Caroline caught me and pulled me back from her, looking worried. "My Lady, no," she shook her head; her brows crossed. "What are you _doing_ here?" she asked. "Jauffre told me that you had been taken back to the City, and were in the care of the High Chancellor?"

I blinked a little as I regarded her. So much had happened since we had left Ocato, but it had been less than two days since we had left the City.

"I was in the City," I began. "But I..."

I hesitated. What could I tell her? That I'd demanded to be brought along, like a child? That I had nearly been sacrificed to a Daedric Prince because of it?

"What are you wearing?" she continued when I didn't, her nose wrinkling as she raked her eyes over me with distaste. "What's..." she asked, as her fingers picked at one of the blood splatters on the shift. She trailed off when she realised what it was. Her eyes narrowed, and she turned away swiftly.

"Baurus!" she barked to the Redguard.

I flushed as I spotted him, talking to one of the other Blades.

"No, it's fine," I told her hurriedly, catching her arm and suddenly desperate for her not to cause a fuss, particularly in front of everyone. I flicked a glance at Baurus; he hadn't heard Caroline call out to him.

"Please, can we go inside? I have to speak with Jauffre and Martin right away," I held up the satchel by way of explanation.

Her eyes widened, and she motioned for us to move toward the main building. "You retrieved the Amulet of Kings?" a relieved smile grew on her face.

I felt like a fool. Of _course_ they would assume that's why we were here. I shook my head regretfully. Caroline's grey eyes grew more serious, and her smile fell.

"There's so much to explain," I told her in a quiet voice.

"I'm sure there is," she replied with a sigh. "Come on my Lady; Jauffre is in the main hall."

She opened the double doors for me, and we stepped through together. Once again, I found myself gasping, as I took in the inside of the hidden fortress of the Blades. We were in a large, tall, open hall, constructed of monolithic, vertical wooden beams, between which several smaller, arched beams spanned that were carved beautifully where they met the large columns to look like dragons. Lanterns hung from the dragons' mouths, the orange glow within flickering, and the effect made it appear as though dragons were breathing fire, not merely holding a fire that someone else had lit for them.

The floor was made of a smooth, dark polished wood, interspersed with with darker flagstones that had been worn very smooth in places and seemed rough and disused in others. The walls were plastered and painted white, and beams supported a towering, arching roof above us. To the left and right of the main hall were unassuming wooden doors, leading further into the Temple. At the back of the hall, opposite Caroline and I, was an enormous fireplace with a roaring fire and above it, a white plastered wall and a thick, horizontal beam of wood, from which hung a number of Blades katanas in a neat line. Above these, even higher still and spanning from where the swords were placed to the arching roof, was an ancient-looking banner; the detail of which I could not make out in the shadows of the ceiling.

The room was full of wooden tables and benches organised into lines, at which a number of Blades in plain clothes sat and talked, eating dinner and drinking.

Caroline gave me only a moment to take in the hall, and then she directed me through the centre of it. I felt exposed as eyes turned toward us, out of interest, as we passed. I tried not to clutch at the rough cloak around me, and instead focussed on holding onto the satchel before me, and the terrible book within. I mentally shook my nerves away as I remembered what I carried, and the task that was before us. I lowered the hood of my cloak, and tried to stand a little taller as we walked; reminding myself that I had every right to be here.

Jauffre was sitting at one of the tables closest to the fire with a few other Blades around him, in the middle of his dinner. My stomach churned and gurgled at the sight and smell of baked potatoes and stew, but thankfully there was still enough noise within the room to cover it.

He stood, more from shock than etiquette, when he saw me. Then his eyes narrowed, just as Caroline's had out in the courtyard.

"Where's Baurus?" he asked Caroline angrily, before I had even opened my mouth.

"Outside, Grandmaster. They have only just arrived."

"Jauffre," I started hurriedly, turning as he strode past me, "Where's Martin? Is there somewhere we can speak?"

Jauffre turned back to me, and his eyes flickered to the satchel that I was clutching to my chest. Then he turned back to Caroline.

I realised that the hall was now eerily silent, and kept my eyes on Jauffre, knowing that all eyes, and ears, were on us.

"Tell Baurus to come to me at once," he ordered Caroline in a low voice, then nodded to me, the fire still plain in his eyes, as he indicated that I should follow him.

I gave a worried look to Caroline, and she smiled ruefully and half shrugged, motioning for me to go.

Not another word was spoken as Jauffre lead me to the side of the hall and through a doorway on the eastern wall, into a room that looked like it was trying to be a library. Bookshelves lined one wall, but were mostly empty of books. A set of tables were clustered around a large window, though the light in the room was coming from torches in sconces at intervals on the wall, now that it was night.

Most tables were empty, but one was covered in books, scraps of parchment and note paper and – I did a double take, as Jauffre closed the door behind us – there was Martin, sitting behind it. He was reading with his back to us and his elbow resting on the table, with his fingers tangled in his hair.

I paused and took in the sight of him. _I thought I would never see you again._

He must have heard the door close, because he sat up and turned around in his seat.

"I am not hungry-" he started in a slightly frustrated tone, as though he'd repeated this several times already, but stopped when he saw me. He blinked, then crossed his brows in confusion; his bright blue eyes taking in my appearance.

I just stood there, frozen to the spot, hugging the satchel containing the _Xarxes_ to my chest. A nervousness leaped in my stomach as he seemed to assess me and I wondered what he was seeing, or searching for.

He was wearing plainclothes, as he had been that night in my father's study, and looked so...so _normal_. But there he was – the future Emperor of Tamriel, with ink stains on his fingers, his hair scruffed up a little where he'd been resting his hand in it, and a few days of stubble darkening his chin and upper lip.

"Sarina?" he asked with a frown, as though he didn't believe it was me.

The disbelief in his tone all but broke me, and I wanted to cry and beg forgiveness and leave the room all at once. I had failed him. I had not retrieved the Amulet. What could I possibly tell him that would make this okay?

Jauffre spoke up as he walked past me and further into the room, easing himself into a seat to one side of Martin's table.

"You were supposed to stay in the Imperial City, Lady Passero," he sighed in a somewhat defeated tone.

Martin tore his eyes away from me to stare at Jauffre. "She was _what_?" he asked, an edge to his question.

Jauffre's words brought me back to the task at hand. I bristled as I glanced at the Grandmaster, and stepped further into the room. I wanted to ask Jauffre exactly why he had let me believe I was supposed to ride around Cyrodiil, when there was time, but now was not that time.

Jauffre continued, "Baurus had better-"

"No," I cut him off, coming to a stop beside him. "We will discuss where you think I am supposed to be another day. I am here, now, as the Emperor foresaw," I said pointedly. If Jauffre could take advantage of the Emperor's final words, so could I.

In the corner of my eye I could see Martin, frozen in the action of turning in his seat to watch us.

Where had he thought I was, if not in the City, I wondered? Had Jauffre kept what I was really doing from Martin, too?

I held the satchel out to Jauffre, remembering that Caroline had wrongly assumed it was the Amulet. "The Amulet is gone," I told him bluntly. "Mankar Camoran took it with him through a portal, during a ritual to Mehrune's Dagon, at one of their shrines near Cheydinhal."

"What? Mankar _who_?" he asked quickly, clutching the satchel, then tearing it open.

I ignored his question, because there was too much to tell him. "In there is a book, written by Mehrunes Dagon, called the _Mysterium Xarxes_ ," I explained. "We took it in the hope that if it can be translated, we can open the same portal the Mythic Dawn did, go after Camoran, and retrieve the Amulet."

"Book called the _what_?" Jauffre exclaimed, extracting the book. I heard Martin draw in a sharp breath when Jauffre held it up to the light, then uncertainly placed it on the table before them.

"Jauffre, don't open that," Martin said in a low rush of a voice, as he leaned forward in his chair, to get a better look at the book.

Jauffre shook his head at Martin, looking startled. "I doubt this is the actual _Xarxes_ , Sire-"

"It is," I cut him off again. "The leader of the Mythic Dawn used it to open a portal to somewhere he called 'Paradise'. That," I placed my finger on the cover of the book in emphasis, "is where he has taken the Amulet, and so that is where we must go."

Jauffre looked overwhelmed and sat back, staring at the book all the while.

I turned to Martin; his eyes were on the book as well, though they were filled with a fear I had never seen in the young priest's – no, young _Emperor's_ – eyes. I wanted to reach out and smooth the concern from his brow, but I tore my eyes from him so that I could continue speaking with strength and conviction.

"There is still much to explain-" I continued, but at that moment, Baurus entered the room.

He closed the door quickly behind him; Jauffre heard the noise, and was on his feet in an instant.

"You have a funny way of carrying out my orders," Jauffre called to Baurus as he strode toward him.

Baurus didn't say anything in his defence; immediately bowing to Martin, low and on one knee.

"Orders?" Martin asked sternly, his eyes following the Grandmaster. "What orders, Jauffre? I thought he was escorting Sarina around Cyrodiil, to explain about the Oblivion Gates?" he turned in his seat to me, then.

"Why are you here already, and with _that_?" he indicated the book, then focused on me again. "And...what has happened to you?" he took in my appearance, properly it seemed; the cheap tan cloak, the worn leather boots and the thin, shapeless white shift splattered with blood. That knot of worry at his brow was back again.

I sat in the chair Jauffre had just vacated, blinking as I looked down at my hands, unable to bear Martin's scrutiny as tiredness and defeat caught up with me. My hands were red and chapped in places, where Tor's reigns, the icy blasts of snow and Jauffre's rings had rubbed against them, during the frantic ride north.

I had to tell him the truth.

"Whatever you say; do not blame Baurus," I started in what I hoped was a steady voice. "If it had not been for Baurus, we would never have learned about the Mythic Dawn, or Mankar Camoran," I hesitated, before I continued, knowing that what I had to say would only cause more concern. But they had to know, Martin had to know, that Baurus was the reason we were alive. Gods knew the man already blamed himself for too much.

"If not for Baurus," I sighed, "Count Indarys and myself would have been sacrificed to Mehrunes Dagon-"

" _What_?" Martin cried, leaping to his feet.

"-and we wouldn't be here with the _Mysterium Xarxes_ , able to tell you what has happened to the Amulet. He is a Hero," I finished, looking at the still bowing-form of Baurus.

The Blade raised his head a little, but didn't look at me. I knew that convention would demand he not rise until Martin had given him leave to do so, but had the sudden thought that Martin didn't realise it was required of him.

My gaze drifted to Jauffre, who was unmoving, and watching Martin's reaction with a largely blank expression.

I turned my eyes back to the Septim heir, surprised when I saw that he was standing with his hands bundled into fists at his sides, his teeth clenched and with tears of fury in his eyes. His whole body seemed to be shuddering, in the act of restraining his response.

"Baurus, rise and answer," Martin said in a low voice. "Is this true?"

Baurus stood, and while he was a Redguard, I thought he looked paler, even in the torchlight.

"Martin," I leaped up, afraid he was about to order Baurus away. Disobeying Jauffre's orders seemed such a small price to pay for what we had been able to recover. "Please, it's all right," I implored, reaching out to him.

When my fingers made contact with his arm, he startled a little, and his blue gaze turned to where my hand lay, before they looked up to meet mine. The anger had transformed into a sadness that felt sharp, like a knife twisting into my heart.

How could a mere _look_ from Martin do that to me?

I steeled myself for whatever was to come. He watched me closely, as I moved around to face him properly, to put myself between him and Baurus.

" _Sacrificed_?" he asked in a quiet, strained voice.

I nodded, reaching up so I held both of his arms; be it out of a desire to comfort, or restrain him; perhaps both in equal measure. I wasn't entirely certain. "But I wasn't - and neither was the Count - because Baurus saved us-" I repeated reasonably, quietly.

" _Sarina_ ," he choked, cutting me off in an exposed, wounded voice, seeming to forget that there were two other people in the room. My hand fell from his arm as he reached up to touch my cheek.

My face flared warmly under his touch, and I leaned into his hand before I could help myself. His shaking thumb trailed over my cheekbone and his fingers tangled in the hair below my ear. I looked into those eyes, so full of pain and fury and concern, with the gut-wrenching knowledge that _I_ had caused this in him. I had to find a way to fix things. I forgot to breathe, as I realised I would do _anything_ to make it better and take away his sadness. I didn't just _believe_ in Martin, the next Emperor of Tamriel; I was inexplicably devoted to him.

"This," I heard Jauffre saying plainly, from his place by the door.

I blinked; whatever spell I had been under broken by Jauffre's voice. I had also, for a moment, forgotten there were other people in the room, as I'd realised the true extent of my loyalty to the man before me. I turned and Martin's hand drifted from me; his warmth leaving me, and I wished at once that I had not turned at all.

"This?" I asked Jauffre, but it looked as though he had been talking to Baurus when he'd said it.

" _This_ is what I was trying to avoid," he still spoke to Baurus, indicating Martin and...and I. Both of us.

I dropped my hand from Martin's arm and turned fully toward Jauffre and Baurus, while Martin asked over my shoulder, "Jauffre?"

"We don't have time for _this_ ," Jauffre did turn to us then, and shook his head. "And I am too old for this," he added in a mutter.

"Nonsense, Grandmaster," Baurus cut in quickly. "You aren't too old for anything."

The Grandmaster of the Blades just shook his head again, and I had to wonder exactly _why_ he had been trying to avoid what all of us were leaving unsaid.

He had been trying to _separate_ Martin and I, by sending me back to the City?

_Why?_

Why, after he had made me ride into Kvatch and retrieve him, throwing us together?

Why, after we had fought beside each other and broken down Jauffre's door to get to him at the Priory?

And why, when he knew that despite being a stranger to battle I had leaped into Oblivion and found my way out again to make sure Martin, and Tamriel, would be safe?

I couldn't ask him any of this. I was surprised into silence at the rather exposing turn the conversation had taken, as was Martin, it seemed. My cheeks flared in embarrassment, and I feared to look at him, to see what expression he wore.

"Come, Baurus," Jauffre grumbled, turning toward the door back into the Great Hall. "There is food, and you need to tell me everything that you learned."

A part of me, perhaps the part that was behind the flush to my cheeks or the gallop of my heart, wanted to call out _wait_ at the prospect of being left alone with Martin _now_ , but the words died in my throat before I could utter them. I watched Baurus and Jauffre leave, closing the door quietly behind them.

We would have to address it now, I realised, as the silence enveloped us. If Jauffre was trying to avoid us being together, _why_ had he left us?

I turned back around to Martin hesitantly. "What did he mean by that?" I asked in a shaky voice, feigning ignorance. Martin could not have been fooled; my voice was meek.

His eyes had been on the door they had left by, but he looked down to me as soon as I had spoken, blinking and exhaling sharply, as though remembering that I was there, and that he needed to breathe.

"I am certain, I do not know," he replied, and I could hear a waver in his voice as he turned away and ran his hand through his hair, pushing it back.

 _So, we are lying to each other_ , I wondered? Was I to ignore the way his touch had been like a warm rush of sparks to my skin? Had his startle when I had touched his arm earlier meant it had been the same for him?

With a pang, I realised that Jauffre was right. We had an Empire before us, falling to Oblivion and Mehrunes Dagon. Everyone was scared, and everything was uncertain. Jauffre needed us focussed, and undistracted; particularly Martin.

I moved back to the table, on which lay the _Mysterium Xarxes_ , and sat where I'd previously been sitting. To the task at hand, then.

"This book - it spoke to me, before," I told Martin, in a lowered voice, reaching for the _Xarxes_ with the intention of opening it.

Martin drew his chair up to the table's edge, perpendicular to me. "You read it?" he asked in an intrigued tone.

I shook my head. "I just opened it, and it spoke."

"What did it say?" he held out a hand for the book. "May I try?"

I hesitated. "What if it's a trap?" I realised suddenly. What if he opened it, and it killed him?

Martin shook his head, and his face brightened a little as the corner of his mouth rose slightly. "All daedric artefacts are traps, Sarina," he told me. "Never think otherwise."

With just the hint of a smile, I realised that I had missed him. My mother's voice in my mind berated me immediately; that I barely knew him, despite what we had been through together. _How could you miss him_ , she scathed? The voice insisted that I must have been missing Ebel.

 _But Martin is not Ebel_ , I told myself reasonably. _He is more than Ebel._

I paled and turned back to the book, pushing the conflicting voices from my mind, wondering how Martin knew so much, and particularly anything about daedric artefacts. I shifted the _Mysterium Xarxes_ across the table to him, placing it in his outstretched hand. "It spoke in daedric to me," I answered his prior question. "But over the top of it, I heard some of Mankar Camoran's ramblings," I added.

"Who?" Martin asked, staring down at the cover of the _Xarxes_. "You said his name, before. I recognise it, but I am not sure from where. Who is he?"

"The man who has the Amulet," I told him. "He's their cult leader, and he wrote some books about the _Mysterium Xarxes_ ," I nodded to the book in Martin's arms. "His books, which he called 'translations' of the _Xarxes,_ lead us to him, before he opened the portal and disappeared."

Martin nodded and paused, his fingertips hovering over the edge of the book. I leaned forward, wondering what would happen.

Then he opened it quickly, and I held my breath.

Nothing happened. I didn't hear anything – no voices, no daedric, no engulfing, rushing sound.

I let out the breath and huffed a laugh at the same moment, looking back up to Martin. "Perhaps the cave caused it-"

I closed my mouth when I saw the look on his face. Martin was wincing, his brow creased. He was in pain.

Dread flooded me and I leapt out of my seat, reached across him and slammed the book shut in his arms.

He sat back, his eyes flying open, then he blinked up at me. "What did you do that for?"

I tried to pull the book out of his hands. "It was hurting you."

Martin wouldn't let go, and rose to his feet as well. "It wasn't – I'm..." he blinked again. "I'm fine. I was surprised, I suppose. The book really does speak to you, doesn't it?" he tried to make light of it.

I sighed at him, shaking my head and fixing him with an unimpressed look. "Don't lie to me. I saw the look on your face. It's too dangerous for you," I tried to take the book from him again.

"I promise you, I'm fine-" he didn't relinquish his hold, tugging the book toward him again. I stumbled forward under the momentum as he pulled, and the book slipped out of my grip.

Martin reached forward to steady me, his arm catching my shoulders so I wouldn't fall.

"I'm so sorry!" he discarded the book on the table.

I rested a hand on the edge of the table to re-balance myself, and stared up to him, feeling as though I was about to burst into tears at any moment.

Why was I so weak? Why was I so useless? I couldn't protect anybody, not even Martin from a book.

"No, _I'm_ sorry," I replied, my eyes feeling bright. I willed the tears back as I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I'm sorry that I didn't get to the Amulet in time. I'm sorry about the _Mysterium Xarxes_ hurting you," I shook my head and averted my eyes, unable to maintain his gaze, for I really would start crying if I did. How could I even face him?

"Sarina, no," Martin was saying in his low, quiet voice.

I stared at the _Mysterium Xarxes_ on the table between us, trying to remember the determination, the fury that had roused me to fight, that had given me such focus back in the Mythic Dawn cavern, but it wouldn't come, not standing before Martin.

I bit my bottom lip; a distraction from the tears, then continued. "I'm sorry that you've had to save me so many times, when it was supposed to be me saving you," I made myself look back up to him, so he would know I meant it. The worry on his face made my chest hurt and nearly made me turn away again. "And I'm sorry," I sighed shakily, "that I've caused you pain," I shook my head, realising. "It must be why Jauffre didn't want me here."

"Please, stop," Martin was shaking his head too, as he closed the gap between us with a step, and his other hand moved around me as he enveloped me in his arms, securing me to him. I gripped onto the front of his shirt and rested my forehead against him, willing the helplessness, and the tears, to be gone.

I was afraid, so afraid, for so many reasons. I remembered the last time he had held me like this; after he had saved me from the assassin at Rosethorn Hall. I couldn't keep doing this; falling helplessly into Martin's arms, clinging to him and crying and begging that he make the world right again.

 _This_ is what Jauffre had been trying to avoid.

I took a deep breath, my eyes clenched shut, then exhaled to assemble my control, in an attempt to summon my training. I felt Martin exhale as well, as the hand around me stroked my back gently.

I shuddered and let go of the fistfuls of his shirt I was clinging onto, worried that I was hurting him, and rested my palms on his chest instead. I took another shaky breath; his hand doing little to help me find my focus; and the smell of his clean clothes with a trace of wood fire was a small comfort.

I heard and felt Martin shift, and then I stilled, as I felt his warm breath, as he rested his nose in my hair, his lips just above my ear.

"None of this is your fault," his voice was quiet, but not a whisper, and I felt the words stirring in his chest, through my palms, as he spoke. "And without you, and your _beautiful_ bravery, I would have died," his nose nudged gently against my ear as he exhaled again, his breath warm on my neck.

How was I supposed to ignore this and focus on the task at hand? Ignore _him_ , and his tenderness?

"Martin," I whispered into his chest, as I tried to concentrate on my breathing and not the feel of his hand stroking my waist. "When I woke, after Oblivion," I reminded him, " _you_ were there, saving _me_. You are a priest-"

"I am just a man," he replied quietly again with a small laugh, cutting me off, his breath tickling me as his words flowed through me like a warm spell, enchanting me. His hand shifted, tracing along the line of my jaw, and then he tilted my chin up from his chest, so I would look at him. "And you are my Hero."

Jauffre may have wanted to ignore this, but I could not. I hesitated in opening my eyes, realising that when I did, I would never be able to look away. I would be lost, in Martin, in his beautiful, kind eyes, and his beautiful, kind words.

_Better to be lost than blind._

I opened my eyes, wanting to tell him this, but was unable to form words, as he shifted again, and his fingers wove their way back through my hair, underneath my ear; both a caress, and a determined hold. Martin gazed down at me, and I was transfixed. I trusted him and I needed him; I was terrified and I was enraptured. I lifted myself up to him, as he leaned down to me.

Our lips met gently, and it was as though he had cast Flame upon me; a rush of fire consumed me. His hand on my waist was suddenly trembling and I closed my eyes as he urged me forward, closer to him and deeper into the kiss. I gripped his shirt in my fingers, losing myself in his enveloping warmth and gentleness. His lips were so soft, and the kiss so full of longing that I blushed and asked myself if _I_ had been lying to myself over the past few weeks, by dismissing his attention from Kvatch to the forest aside Weynon Priory as the professional concern of a healer for his patient.

Martin pulled back and we steadied each other, before he leant back down, his breath washing across my cheek as he pressed his lips to the corner of my mouth. The prickles of hair on his chin and cheek softly grazed me.

"Why did Jauffre try to keep you from me?" Martin whispered, in mock enquiry.

I breathed a laugh, and let go of Martin's shirt, feeling brave enough to run my hands around him and settle them on his shoulders. "I am certain, I do not know," I repeated his earlier words to him as a whispered reply. I felt overcome, but also vivid, and alive, and somewhat cheeky. Unsure of how to express all of this to him, or if I even should, I hoped that my eyes were conveying the adoration I felt, as I looked up to his.

Martin met my gaze, only for a moment, and then leant down swiftly and captured my lips again. I felt the weights in my chest melting away, even if I knew they would come crashing back down onto us again soon enough. His hand on my waist tightened, and balance failed me as I forgot everything but the now. But it seemed that was the push that my fatigue needed to take hold of my body; my legs gave way, and I swooned.

Martin's arm around me tightened, as he drew back. "Forgive me," he sounded short of breath. He steadied me, then swallowed, the hand that had been tangled in my hair falling to my waist to hold me up. He rested his head against my forehead, as he had done in the forest weeks ago, and I had to stop myself from tilting my head up and capturing his lips again, since he was trying to say something.

"I am being so rash, so selfish, after all you have endured," he held me a little tighter, "but I feared I would never see you again."

I shook my head against his as I clung to his arms, also catching my breath, unsure of what I could say. "So did I," I managed, hoping he understood what I meant.

"You must be exhausted," he continued, easing back from me. I regarded him; his pupils were large, his lips were a little swollen, and his hair was still just ever so slightly messed up. He looked so unguarded that I flushed, wondering if I looked just as dishevelled and overcome as he did.

I hadn't realised that he'd charged a Healing spell, until the golden glow of his magic created light between us, flowing from his hands into my arms, and warming my body in a much less dramatic, urgent, fiery way than his kiss had.

"No, Martin," I urged, as the glow of his magic eased my aching muscles. "I am well, I just need sleep," I told him. "You don't need to exhaust yourself on my account."

He smiled, and I felt his magic begin to dissipate. "Then I am being selfish again, and healing you on my account," he replied. "As it makes me feel as though I am of some use to you."

I wanted to laugh; how many times had I justified my words or actions so I could be of use to Martin? But I didn't laugh, only smiled back up at him.

"And," he sighed, letting go of me and turning toward the door to the Great Hall. "I can be of better use to you now by hindering you no longer," he said, holding a hand out for me to take, indicating that we leave the library. "There is a spare room in the west wing that you can rest in. We'll have it made up for you properly tomorrow."

I took his hand, feeling nervous as we headed for the door. Was Martin going to lead me? We would have to pass by the Blades! With Martin holding my hand, leading me to a bedroom, even if it was just to drop me off for the night - what would they _think_ of me?

The Great Hall was emptier than it had been when I'd first arrived, but there were still clusters of Blades around tables, none of which seemed to notice or care when the door opened, and none of which tried to stop us when Martin lead us along the side of the hall, in front of the fireplace, and down the other side to a closed doorway in the west. I didn't see Baurus or Jauffre, or Caroline for that matter, and wondered if Baurus was still explaining everything to the Grandmaster, or if it was later than I thought.

We entered the western wing and Martin lead me down a hallway and then up a flight of stairs, explaining that the west wing was mostly empty, and that the Blades slept in dormitories elsewhere in the Temple. The hallways were made of that same, dark wood that the Great Hall was constructed out of, lit only in a few places by pools of light coming from torches in sconces along the wall.

We reached a door on the second floor, which Martin stopped at. Before he opened it, Martin turned, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on my forehead. My eyes drifted closed at his contact, and any worry and nerves that I felt fled.

"Thank you," I said, looking up as my eyes fluttered open again as he drew back.

He smiled at me, a beautiful smile that reached his eyes, and I was overwhelmed by joy, in seeing him so happy. "Good night, Sarina. Sleep well."

I put my hand on the door handle, then hesitated. "Promise me that you will not read the _Mysterium Xarxes_ without me," I turned back to him. "You should rest now, too. We can begin trying to translate it tomorrow."

Martin hesitated, and I knew then that he _had_ intended on returning to the library to investigate the hateful book.

I waited for his answer and after a moment he nodded. "All right," he sighed, though he looked amused. "I will rest. Honestly," he added, shaking his head but still smiling, "you sound like Jauffre."

I opened the door then, wondering at how light I felt; I even laughed a little. "Good night, Martin."

I closed the door behind me, and leaned back against it, closing my eyes.

Such an unexpected evening. I had tried to dismiss Martin every time he had swam into my thoughts for the past few weeks, but within an hour of being near him...it was kind of absurd, really, this giddy feeling, and the way we had responded to one another. Like something out of a bard's tale. Had that really just happened?

I listened to his footsteps as he walked down the hallway, and smiled, easing myself from the door and touching my fingertips to my lips.

 _My first kiss._ Like nothing I could have imagined. The ballads spoke of many things but left out the breathlessness, the overwhelming of the senses, and the underlying thrill that was akin, somehow, to fear. It had been terrifying and exciting, and intoxicating, all at once.

I tried to make myself focus by inspecting the room Martin had shown me to. A large purple rug covered the floor, and the room was lit by a few bowls of fat candles; one on a small table, and another on the bedside table. I wondered who had lit them as I walked to the dresser.

The dresser had a bowl on it, and a jug of water, and a wash cloth. I frowned down at them, again wondering who had prepared the room; it was not as though Baurus and I had been expected.

I pulled off my boots and cloak, stripped off the thin white shift that the Mythic Dawn had dressed me in (resolving to burn the garment in the morning), washed myself, then searched the cupboard for something to sleep in. There were a number of large tunics of varying sizes and I selected one of the largest, which once I'd put it on, drifted around my knees. I folded up the cuffs a few times, then turned to the bed. It was a small, single bed, with a wooden frame and made up with white cotton sheets. I retrieved a blanket and pillow from the top of the cupboard I'd found the tunics in, and arranged the bed. I wasn't fatigued as I should have been, and was no longer hungry, but then, Martin had started to Heal me before.

Even so, I fell asleep almost as soon as my head had hit the pillow. While nobody stood watching over me while I slept, I felt safer and more contented than I had for weeks.


	18. An Agreement with Jauffre

_A rushing noise._

_A deep voice, harsh and rasping, whispering oaths in daedric._

_A grasping, searing burning._

_I smell blood._

_I hear Mankar Camoran's whispered words._

_I am blind._

"Good morning, my Lady!" Caroline's voice called out cheerily.

I woke, my eyes flying open as my heart thudded rapidly.

She hesitated when she saw me. "Are you unwell?"

I stared at Caroline. She wasn't in her Blades armour for once, but in light, comfortable-looking woollen garments of blue and tan. The Breton's blonde hair was flying free around her shoulders, and had a windswept look about it, as did her cheeks; flushed with exposure to fresh, clean morning air.

I began to ease myself up, adrenalin making my movements sluggish. "Bad dream..." I told her in a murmur.

Caroline wandered to the closet and flung it open. "Then it is a good thing I came to wake you when I did," she mused, then began extracting clothing.

I winced as I sat up fully, but remained sitting in the bed. "Caroline, what are you doing?" I asked her.

The Blade flashed me a look as though it was obvious and I'd asked in jest, but after a pause, answered, when she realised I was serious.

"I'm...finding you some clothes," she explained, her brows crossed a little. "I know it is still early, but you were never one to oversleep, were you?"

I shook my head. "You don't have to look after me anymore." I told her.

Caroline's movements slowed; her eyes trained on the closet. After another pause, she suddenly turned to me with a smile on her face, and her arms full of clothes. "Nonsense, my Lady. My duty now, more than ever, is to you."

I rose finally, as she placed the armload of clothing on the bed before me. I let the matter go, because in truth, I was relieved to see her.

"There is no elegance to them," Caroline ran her eyes over what she had selected, putting her hands on her hips.

"I suspect there is little need for elegance, up here," I selected a pair of loose woollen trousers and a long green tunic that came to my knees with splits running up each side to the hip.

"Very true," Caroline helped me into the garments, then guided me to the dresser, sitting me down in front of it. I looked at her reflection of the mirror as she busied herself with my hair, running her fingers through it and assessing the length critically.

I couldn't help but frown. Everything about our lives had changed, and she had fallen instantly back into our routine. And, I realised, I wanted to let her. A part of me was grateful for her being here, and giving me - us, I supposed - this little a piece of normality.

Caroline fussed. "There's not much we can do with this anymore, is there?" she brushed my hair so the curls grew full with static.

My frown persisted. I didn't want to talk about hair. "What happened to you?" I asked, quietly. "After you left me in the cell, I mean?"

I watched her reaction in the mirror, as her eyes took on a more distant quality. She put the brush down, separated my hair into two sections, and started to braid one of them.

"I am sure you can guess," she sighed. "Is there anything in the dresser to bind this with?"

I opened the drawer and searched it, taking out a few strips of leather. "Please, tell me," I insisted. "I was worried about you." I added.

Caroline took one of the bits of leather, and started to wind it around the base of the plait. My hair felt tight and I leaned toward her as she tugged the braid tightly to secure it.

"All right," she sighed again, as she moved to the other side and started braiding the other half. "After I left you, I went back up into the Tower," she began, "to find the assassins, as I knew the rest of my company would," her eyes flickered to mine in the mirror for a moment. "Everyone had already left," she turned her eyes down again, focusing on my hair. "I found Prince's Geldall and Enman, though. Too late to save them," she said idly, as though she was talking about something else entirely, or trying to distract herself from what she was saying. "And no sign of the Emperor," she muttered, as she finished the braid and started binding the end of it with another thin leather strip.

"So, I did what I was supposed to do next," she picked up a third leather strip, and started binding the two plaits together, wrapping them around each other to form a bun at the back of my neck. "I went on to the escape route. Then I found Baurus, standing guard over the Emperor's body," she quietened, and said no more on the matter.

She patted my hair a little. "There. That will have to do," she smiled in the mirror at me, though her eyes didn't smile with her. "I didn't realise you would cut off _quite_ so much, my Lady."

I turned around in the seat and faced her, feeling sad. She really didn't want to talk about it, did she? I had been cruel to ask her.

"Thank you," I rose, and hugged her. "Thank you for saving me."

Caroline startled with a laugh, before hugging me back. "Any time."

Her mention of my hair reminded me. "Oh!" I moved to the bedside table, withdrawing the silver dagger she'd given me all those weeks ago to cut it. "Here, this is yours," I held it out in my palm.

Caroline waved dismissively. "You keep it, my Lady," she indicated the side of her boot, and I could see that there was a dagger sheathed in it. "I have a replacement."

"Thank you," I said again, placing it on the bedside table. Seeing the dagger reminded me, though, of the promise I had made, to learn how to better defend myself. Perhaps Caroline would agree to train me, while we were both stuck at Cloud Ruler Temple?

"Come, let's get breakfast," she moved back to the closet and retrieved a pair of flat, short slippers made of softly worn leather. "These should fit you."

I put on the shoes and hastened to the door after her. "May I ask a favour?" I asked, as Caroline opened the door for me.

She smiled easily. "Anything, my Lady."

I took a deep breath as we made for the staircase that would lead to the lower levels of the Temple. "It is only," I started, "that in these past few weeks I've...found myself needing to fight for my life. I was able to fight at range, thanks to you and Ebel being so supportive of my skill with a bow."

"I am grateful to hear so," Caroline murmured, though there was no masking the edge of concern in her voice.

I pressed on. "But if not for Martin, Baurus, or any number of others fighting with and sometimes for me, I would have died," I told her. "These encounters," I added lightly, trying not to dwell on the actual events but the point I wanted to make, "have taught me how incredibly _useless_ I can be."

It was warmer and noisier in the hall. Blades littered the tables and the fireplace roared at the back of the room, just as it had the night before.

"You are not _useless_ , my Lady," Caroline cut in. "Don't let anybody tell you so," she added as we alighted the stairs and entered the main hall. She indicated that we should walk to the fireplace end of the hall.

I gave her an incredulous look at what she had said, and began to walk toward the back of the Temple, where I could see several cauldrons silhouetted against the fireplace. "If not for you, the Kvatch guards, Count Indarys' guards, Baurus, Martin, High Chancellor Ocato, and likely many more that I am not even aware of myself, I would be dead, several times over," I said evenly.

She shook her head. "You dwell on those moments, and forget what you have achieved," she ticked the points off on her fingers as she spoke. "You travelled alone to Weynon Priory, travelled alone to Kvatch, leapt into an Oblivion Gate, closed it when nobody else could, found the heir, delivered him back to the Priory, delivered Jauffre's message to the Elder Council, found out _a lot_ that Baurus couldn't have about the Mythic Dawn, retrieved the _Mysterium Xarxes_ ," she held her hands out to me then. "You even managed to convince the Emperor to go to bed at a half-decent hour last night – _nobody_ has been able to do that."

I flushed and was glad it was noisy in the hall, as nobody had appeared to take notice of Caroline's praise. Word sure got around fast at Cloud Ruler Temple.

"I had a lot of help," I replied meekly.

Caroline smiled as we reached the cauldrons and she handed me a wooden bowl from a pile to one side. "Wisdom is not having all the answers, but knowing where to find them," she mused.

"Which is why I am asking you for a favour," I clarified, directing our conversation back to its original course. "I don't want to have to rely on being saved anymore," I pressed. "What if next time, I'm by myself, and don't have a bow or a chance to use one?" I asked her. "Should I not equip myself, while I can, to have a fighting chance?"

Caroline finally realised what I was getting to in my own, verbose way. "You wish to learn to fight short range?" she asked me uncertainly.

I nodded. "Would you teach me? Please? If you have time, that is," I had no idea what her Blades duties encompassed. "You and I know that there's no need for you to be my bodyguard, up here," I added. "But this way, you would still be protecting me, by arming me, for whatever the future brings."

"Well..." Caroline leaned over the cauldron, and ladled some porridge into her bowl, handing me the ladle after her. "Truthfully my Lady, it would be better if you fostered your skill with the bow, and focussed on agility, instead of learning the art of short range fighting from the beginning," she smiled wryly at me. "You don't have the build for short range."

I ladled my own breakfast into my bowl, frowning. There had been too many close calls in the past few weeks where I'd been helpless. Caroline was obviously having trouble realising this, since she hadn't been part of it. To me, it didn't matter that we would have to start from the beginning, or that I might not get much practise with a sword before I had to use it; _anything_ had to be better than nothing.

"What do you suggest I do next time I'm cornered?" I countered.

Caroline frowned now. After a moment, she asked, "You are serious about this?"

I nodded. "If you will teach me, yes."

She regarded me carefully, then shrugged. "As you wish. We'll have to start small, though," Caroline mused, and we moved to gather spoons and condiments; Caroline put a large knob of butter in her porridge, and I added a spoonful of honey to mine. "Perhaps we could begin with weaponless forms. I doubt you'll have the strength to swing a greatsword no matter how much training you do..." she considered, almost to herself.

I felt relieved as we walked toward the tables, and Caroline continued to speculate over where to begin training me.

That had been so much easier than I'd expected it to be. I'd imagined Caroline outright refusing me and stubbornly insisting that a Blade would always be there by my side.

Perhaps she had been told by Baurus, or Jauffre, details of what had happened to me during the past few weeks. Perhaps she knew, as I did, that I had been very lucky, despite what she had said earlier about that which I had achieved.

I cast my eyes around the room as we found a seat, searching for familiar faces. Was Martin awake yet, I wondered? I tried and failed to stop myself from flushing as nerves fluttered into my belly and I stared down immediately into my porridge instead.

What would I say to him...what would he say to me? Would he say anything about our time in the library together? Did all of the Blades already know about that as well?

What if he didn't say anything? What if he acted as though it had never happened?

I stirred my porridge idly, my mind occupied, as I remembered the feel of Martin's hand tangled in my hair as our lips pressed together; the rush of fire, the weight of emotion behind it, and his shaking hand gripping my waist.

I shook off my apprehension; there was no way he could forget that. I certainly never would. I put my spoon down and cast my eyes back around the main hall.

There was a scattering of Blades around the room, but nobody I recognised. The hall had no windows so I had no way of telling how early it was. Perhaps Martin was still abed. I hoped so; he had looked tired the previous night, and Caroline had mentioned that he hadn't been sleeping much.

I gave my attention back to Caroline as she reminded me to eat before the food grew cold. As we ate, she told me about how Cloud Ruler Temple worked. There was a roster, and the Blades worked guard duty in shifts. Every few days they'd be rostered on in the house, in the kitchens, laundry, or smithy. Brother Piner, who I was glad to learn was still alive, looked after the lighting of the candles, torches, and ensuring that the fire remained lit in the main hall, but was otherwise left to himself to read and pray. Every few days, a number of Blades would journey to Bruma in disguises to gather provisions, taking a long, winding journey through old mountain passes and forests, to keep anyone with their eyes on the mountains from discovering where they had come from.

"You're going to need some armour eventually, if we go through with this," Caroline considered, suddenly switching our topic of conversation back to my request for training. "But it'll have to be light. Perhaps we can get one of the smiths to alter that enchanted cuirass you were given in Kvatch," Caroline added, with a gleam in her eye. "Imagine it - the Hero of Kvatch, wearing the armour of Kvatch, leading Legions through the Gates of Oblivion," she envisaged, in a teasing way.

"Caroline!" my heart raced at what she had said. It wasn't because of the name, which seemed to have stuck - and to be fair, I had used it to my advantage when I had needed to - but her wording had reminded me of the dream I had experienced, back in the Tower. The dream where I _had_ been in the deadlands, in Kvatch armour and with Legion soldiers. The dream that had ended when I had been stabbed as I was about to remove the Sigil stone. "I have no intention of riding out into battle, if I can help it!"

Caroline laughed a little. "I am sorry, my Lady, of course you don't," she said as she calmed down, then smiled somewhat sadly. "I wish I had been there with you. Though by all accounts, it sounds as though you didn't need my help."

I resumed eating, trying to push the dream from my thoughts, as Caroline swiftly moved on. She said that she was free after lunch, if I wanted to meet her at the Temple entryway then, to start training. I agreed to the time, though wondered if I should be leaving Martin to the _Xarxes_ alone, despite my desire that I learn to fight. Perhaps Jauffre could help him in the afternoon?

I was only half way through my porridge when Jauffre appeared at our table. He asked me if I could finish my breakfast in his study, saying that he needed to question me about some events that Baurus had not witnessed personally, to add to his documentation.

He must have had a good night's sleep, for he no longer appeared as irritable as he had been; he was still stern, if not a little impatient, but under the circumstances I waved his manner off as his way of being efficient.

I gathered my breakfast and followed Jauffre into the west wing, back up the stairs and into a room at the far north of the building; his study. It was small, with a single bookshelf that was mostly empty of books and being used as a random clutter shelf, and a great desk in the middle of it. I took a seat at the desk, my eyes drifting over the mess of papers and books that were scattered there, wondering how he could possibly know where anything was. His breakfast had been delivered but not touched; there was a tray containing a bowl of porridge and a teapot on one side of the desk.

"Tea?" Jauffre asked, collecting a pair of tankards from the bookshelf.

I placed my half-eaten bowl of porridge on the desk and nodded, thanking him.

After tea was served and he'd taken his own seat behind the desk, Jauffre shifted a few of the books to one side and readied his quill over a notebook.

He got straight to the point. "Lady Passero, Baurus told me of what occurred with regards to the finding of the Mythic Dawn, but I feel as though I am missing much of what happened in the cave at Lake Arrius with only his account. Would you be able to describe your experience there?"

I hesitated. "Oh," was all I could answer. My hunger dissipated, and I gathered the tankard and took a sip of tea instead.

Of course. I should have realised he would need information about that. I had pushed the events from my mind, wanting to move forward.

Jauffre sighed, but he didn't seem frustrated. "I know that you would probably rather forget what happened. It must have been very...frightening," he picked a word.

I shook my head, replacing the tankard on the table. "It's all right," I settled my hands in my lap. I reminded myself of how easy it had been to talk to Tar-Meena about Oblivion, when all she had wanted was facts. Talking to Jauffre about the Mythic Dawn would be the same, surely.

I started talking and Jauffre started writing; I told him about the attack on the road to Cheydinhal and the paralysis spells, about the Mythic Dawn capturing us, and about the Altmer woman in red who had recognised me, who seemed to be of a higher rank than the other cult members. Jauffre stopped me when I mentioned her, asking me to recall everything I could – her features, clothing, voice; every little detail. He wrote as I described her, trying to force a detachment over me as I remembered how she had cruelly twisted my hair in her fist and flung me toward the two cultists. I shook the fear that the memory evoked down. She couldn't do anything to me from here.

"Why were they looking for you, if not for your connection to the Septims?" Jauffre asked his notes, more so than me.

I replied quickly. "Baurus thought that it was because I closed an Oblivion gate that they'd needed to keep open, and because I was the first to do it. That they wanted to stop me from getting word out."

Jauffre nodded, making more notes. "Perhaps, initially. But why still? And then, why not attack the Tower from all sides? It couldn't have been a secret for very long that you were under guard there," he looked frustrated at the point, and scratched his head with the back of his quill hand as he considered what he had written, then shook his head. "It is no secret, either, that you were not carrying any future Septims, despite what the bored housewives gossiped about to the contrary. So why were they looking for you?"

I felt my blood boil, wondering if he realised what he had just said; if he remembered that I was sitting in front of him as he said it. I was mortified that whether or not Ebel had bedded me before our wedding had been such a topic of conversation, and kept coming up. I felt shaky when I replied to him, though it was not out of wanting to cry, for once.

"I assure you, I have no idea why they wanted me. Shall I continue?"

Jauffre said yes in a contemplative tone, seemingly still unaffected by what he'd said, and my reaction to it. He frowned at his notes yet again.

I told him what I could remember about the preparation, but that I'd had no idea about what the ritual would involve; about the rescue, and then the ritual chamber. I recalled and described Mankar Camoran in surprisingly vivid detail, and instead of feeling fear when I pictured him standing in front of the blood-soaked altar wearing the Amulet and squaring me with his narrowed eyes, I felt only anger; at him, the situation he had created, and at Jauffre for making me tell him about it. I told him how I had aimed and shot at him; how the world had split around him and taken Camoran out of reach, and the brief battle that had followed.

Jauffre asked no more questions, just wrote and wrote. When I had finished recounting the entire horrific night to him, I reached for my tea again, sipped it to wet my throat, and realised my hands were still shaking.

He sat back in his chair, his eyes flickering up to me and I made myself maintain his gaze, as I told myself to calm down. It was done, now. And he needed to know what had happened, so he could prepare us all for what came next.

"I have told you everything," I finished, "and answered your questions. Will you answer one for me?" I asked in a steady voice.

Jauffre regarded me thoughtfully, but nodded immediately. "Of course."

I sat forward a little. "Why didn't you tell me you were sending me back to the White-Gold Tower?" I asked plainly.

Jauffre must have known that I would ask him about this, because he also sat forward, and almost straight away replied, "Do you understand the role I serve as Grandmaster of the Blades, Lady Passero?"

I nodded, wondering what relevancy his question had to mine. "Yes. You protect the Emperor."

"Correct," he nodded. "And, did it matter whether you went to Empire, or the Empire came to you, to tell them about the Oblivion gates and the heir's retrieval?"

I shook my head. "No, it didn't and _that's_ what I don't understand," I told him. "Why _didn't_ you just tell me?"

He stared at me a moment. "To protect the Emperor."

"That doesn't make any sense!" I replied quickly.

"Lady Passero," Jauffre said hurriedly, "Martin has little knowledge of the Imperial City, of High Chancellor Ocato, or of the resources of the White-Gold Tower," he started. I sat back and listened, glad that he was finally explaining himself. "In fact, all he _does_ know about the Tower is that it is where the Septims were murdered, and where you recently escaped from," he indicated me.

"My priority, that night at the Priory, was to get Martin out of sight and to safety," he sighed. "I did not need him to argue endlessly with me about you coming with us to Cloud Ruler Temple. Because when he wants to," Jauffre added with a knowing look, "he can _argue_."

"But Martin was _furious_ when you said I was to ride around Cyrodiil with Baurus," I cut in. "How could telling him the truth have been any worse?"

Jauffre shook his head. "I underestimated his regard for you, that is true," he commented. "I noticed an attachment, shall we call it, when I saw you together that night," he spoke plainly, and I tried to stop from flushing. "So I made a call. But Martin has been difficult to reach since we arrived here. As a boy, he was always strong-willed, but now, he's more stubborn than I could have imagined to be possible," he sounded frustrated.

I swallowed, stifling my embarrassment by turning it into a determined frustration. "He doesn't like sitting around doing nothing, while others fight for him. He doesn't like being treated like he is useless," I told Jauffre, trying not to clench my teeth. "A sentiment I understand completely."

I felt furious that Jauffre was managing him so badly, and I gripped the tankard in my hand so that I wouldn't fling it down and storm from the room. Jauffre was just doing what he believed he had to, to keep Martin safe, as he had been doing for Martin's entire life, I told myself.

"His life is bound to duty and service, more so than any other in Tamriel now," Jauffre countered reasonably. "He will have to get used to doing things that he doesn't like, for the good of something greater than himself," he lectured me.

I cast my eyes down into the tankard, which was nearly empty, feeling Jauffre's words wash over me as though they were aimed at me. Jauffre knew nothing of subtlety, but he was right.

Was I just being selfish? Demanding to be a part of events, while being _vastly_ under-qualified? Was my selfishness putting others in danger? Putting _Martin_ in danger?

I raised my eyes to Jauffre, feeling shaky again. "You must know," I told him, "that I would do _anything_ in my power to ensure Martin's safety."

"As he would to ensure yours, it seems," Jauffre muttered, his tone resigned.

There was still a part of Jauffre's plan that I didn't understand, and now that he had hinted at it again, I asked him, "What did you mean last night, when you said you had been trying to avoid us from being together?" I felt more nervous asking him this than when I had told him my memories of Lake Arrius.

Jauffre sighed again, and I knew I was in for another lecture.

"I know, you said that nobody has time for it," I spoke up first, hurriedly. "But we barely know each other."

"Does that matter?" Jauffre asked plainly.

I was taken aback, and wondered if it truly did? It hadn't seemed to matter the previous night; we'd fallen into that kiss as though we'd been waiting for it our entire lives.

"I have known Martin for his entire life," Jauffre continued. "And his regard for you was plain to me the moment I saw you talking together at the Priory," he said.

I flushed now, wondering how Jauffre could have seen something that I hadn't known existed then, but he went on, in his lecturing tone.

"I am not too old to understand that people will have feelings for one another regardless of what is occurring around them, but I caution you," he paused, and some of the fire seemed to leave him. "Martin may remind you of him, but _he is not Ebel_."

I gaped. " _That's_ what you think this is?" I burst out, completely taken by surprise.

"I understand that his appearance makes you more forward and familiar with Martin than you would have been otherwise, yes," Jauffre nodded curtly, as though it explained everything.

"Jauffre!" I exclaimed, so he would stop, because he had it so _incredibly_ wrong. "Ebel treated me like a child! He never touched me - was never excited or passionate, or teased me about anything to make me laugh, or treated me like his equal," I realised that I was gripping the tankard again, and I forced myself to ease my grip. "Ebel respected me, as was his duty, but he did not _love_ me, and I did not love him," I admitted in a rush.

"It is impossible not to see similarities in Martin and Ebel's appearances," I hurried on. "But that doesn't mean that I think they're the same person! They couldn't be more different!" I finished, somewhat aghast. Jauffre had sent me away, after seeing something in Martin, and making the assumption that I was acting out of grief and trying to fill an Ebel-shaped hole in my life with Martin instead?

I wanted to run from the room again, as soon as I had closed my mouth. How had Jauffre made me say all of that? I had never told anyone the truth about Ebel and I. I remained seated, telling myself sternly that to run now, from the words I had spoken, would make Jauffre believe I _was_ overcome with guilt or grief; would make him believe that he was right.

So I made myself meet Jauffre's gaze. He was watching me with a scrutiny about his look that I'd not seen before, as though he was looking at me properly for the first time and weighing me. I sat there and bore his examination, swallowing my fears and focusing on the loyalty I had felt the previous night; my desire to keep Martin safe.

"I understand. Thank you," he said at last, and I let out a breath I hadn't realised I'd been holding as he did. "You have eased a weight from my mind."

I was taken aback, again, in that he sounded sincere, not sarcastic.

Jauffre paused, holding his hands out somewhat imploringly. "Martin has been a priest these last seven years," he started. "He is losing the life he knew, his family, his vows, and from the looks of him, his faith," Jauffre seemed a little defeated to admit it. "I can counsel him if he will hear me, as I have always done, but I cannot _make_ him be ready for what lies ahead.

"When we retrieve the Amulet," Jauffre continued, giving me a pointed look, "Martin will be thrown into a world he knows nothing about, expected to pick up the pieces of an Empire which has undergone a period of daedric attack and heavy loss," he sighed. "Tamriel will look to him for aid, guidance, hope - for everything."

"He will not be alone," I promised.

"Indeed he will not," Jauffre said, in a stoic way. "And so, I ask a favour of you, now. While he must be idle," he sighed, his eyes finding mine again. "Teach him. Teach him everything you can about who he will be expected to know and associate with when he ascends to the throne. Teach him the behaviour he will be expected to exhibit. Teach him about the games that the nobles play, and how to read them, so that he is forewarned, for he is a kind and honest soul who might otherwise fall into the nobility's traps the moment they know him."

I nodded, bristling a little at his opinion of the Cyrodiil aristocracy, considering that I was a member of it. But, he was kind of correct, if not a little too blunt about it. "I can do that."

Jauffre nodded too. "Thank you. As for the investigation into the portal this, Mankar Camoran," he tasted the name bitterly, "disappeared into, the Blades are at your disposal the moment you and Martin discover anything useful."

"We plan to start work on it immediately," I told him.

"Good," he agreed. "But, while the Amulet is our priority until further notice, you must not allow Martin to spend his days and nights trying to unlock the secrets hidden in the _Xarxes_ ," his eyes flashed with caution. "Yourself as well, Lady Passero," he added. "You must be mindful of what that book will do to your sanity."

"We will be careful-" I started.

"No, I must insist," Jauffre cut in, "that until you have grown accustomed to it, you will spend no more than a few hours a day at it, and give your minds time to recover."

I realised that there would be no leaving this room until I agreed to Jauffre's conditions, so I nodded. The audience had dragged on for far too long, and I was tired of talking.

"Good," Jauffre seemed satisfied.

After that was decided, it was not long before I left Jauffre's study. I didn't tell him about my plan to have Caroline teach me to fight, but I wondered, as I left the room, if it might be a good idea for Martin to learn some close-range fighting skills, as well. If nothing else, it would be a way to keep him busy, and away from the _Xarxes_ while I was otherwise occupied, to fulfil Jauffre's request.

I wandered to the library, wondering if Martin had risen yet, and hoped that if he had, true to his word, he hadn't started without me.


	19. The Mysterium Xarxes

The library was empty, and the lanterns dull and cold. In the stillness, with barely any of the early-morning light making it beyond the enormous cliffs that sheltered the fortress filtering through the large window, everything was a shade of grey, and it felt as though the room was frozen in time.

I approached the desk by the window, where we had sat the night before, and glanced down at the _Mysterium Xarxes_. The cover managed to gleam at me, despite the meagre light.

Would the _Xarxes_ try to drive us mad, as it had Mankar Camoran, I wondered? How would we even begin to translate it, or make any sense of it, if it did?

I shuddered and averted my eyes, casting my gaze to the window, stepping toward it to distance myself from the vile book. As I lay my hand on the cool, smooth glass, I noticed there were two thick panes in the window frame, with a gap between them, to create a buffer of air against the frigid cold of outdoors.

I looked out over the vast courtyard, made of large tiles of grey stone, peppered here and there with leafless wind-swept trees, clumps of grass, and bunches of hardy white tundra cotton. Beyond the courtyard rose the outer wall, and then above that, a jagged cliff face; one of the Jerall Mountains. We must have been very close to the border of Cyrodiil and Skyrim, and I realised that I had never been this far north in my life.

I heard movement behind me and turned, expecting to see Martin, but instead I recognised Brother Piner as he shuffled into the library. He was dressed in his brown monk's robes with his feet bare, holding a large, open lantern. He made barely any noise, as he shifted across the room from the northern one, and carefully began lighting the lanterns from the one he carried.

"Brother Piner," I made my presence known, since he didn't seem to have realised I was there. "It is good to see you again," I took a step toward him, with a smile in place.

Brother Piner blinked and raised his head from his task to regard me. There was a faraway look on his face, and he didn't smile, or return my greeting. It was as though he looked straight through me, and didn't see me at all.

"Brother?" I tried again, hugging my arms as an unnerved feeling crept over me. Perhaps he didn't remember me. "Are you all right?"

Brother Piner held his lantern up, showing me, as though it explained everything. I remembered Caroline telling me that he was in charge of keeping the fires within the temple lit; he must have been the one who'd lit the candles in the room I'd been shown to the night before.

Before I could speak again, Brother Piner bowed his head in farewell, and shuffled toward the southern room, which I'd noticed the previous night looked like some sort of rudimentary alchemy lab.

I watched him go, frowning. What was wrong with him? Had he taken a vow of silence? I had noticed the young monk's simpleness back at Weynon Priory, and Martin had suggested that Prior Maborel had looked after him for this very reason, but...

 _Oh_ , I understood. Prior Maborel had been killed by the Mythic Dawn in the battle at Weynon Priory. It was grief. Brother Piner was grieving.

My eyes on the south exit, even after the Brother had gone, I wondered if more could be done for him. Did Jauffre think it was healthy for him to be left to endure his grief, alone and in silence? But, truly, what did I know of the matter? I certainly didn't have any answers, when it came to managing grief. Perhaps it _was_ best for him.

The door from the Great Hall opened. I glanced toward it and saw Martin, casting his eyes around the room. He smiled warmly when he saw me, and moved into the library.

I smiled back, though I felt a knot of sadness twisting within me at Brother Piner's situation.

Martin looked better than he had the night before. He was in plainclothes again, with his hair tied at the back of his neck, and he was clean-shaven.

"Good morning, Martin," I greeted him lightly.

"Good morning, Sarina," he greeted back. "You _are_ here," he sounded somewhat relieved.

I gave him a questioning look as he came to a stop in front of me.

He leaned down to me, and my breath caught as he smoothed his hand over my temple and placed a gentle kiss on my forehead, as he had done when we had said good night, the night before.

His hand found my shoulder as he withdrew, and I followed his movements automatically, staring up to meet his lively blue eyes. He must have had a good night's sleep; he seemed so calm, and contented.

"I woke this morning and worried that I had only _dreamt_ you were here," he admitted as he stroked my shoulder tenderly.

The smile on his face, the warmth in his eyes – the thumb making circle patterns on my shoulder - allowed me to dismiss the uncertainty I'd felt over how we might react to one another in the light of day. His easy manner assured me that nothing between us would be awkward.

I shook my head and renewed my smile, as my own contentment settled me. I resolved to be brave for him, and for myself. "I am here."

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, his hand falling from my shoulder as he turned and indicated that we should sit at the table by the window.

I shifted to the chair he offered, nodding, then changed my mind and shook my head as I sat. "I had a strange dream, before I woke," I muttered, remembering the feelings and smells that had overwhelmed me, though I had been blind and seen nothing.

"Oh?" Martin asked as he pushed my chair in for me, then he walked around to take his own seat. "What was it about?"

I hesitated, wishing I'd not said anything. Martin would worry that the book had caused it. Maybe it had?

"It was..." I stared at the _Mysterium Xarxes_ , still gleaming, now with an orange hue as it reflected the flickering lantern lights. I nodded to it. "I think it was about the _Xarxes_ ," I told him, convincing myself that there was no point in pretending otherwise. I noticed him shift forward in the corner of my eye, but kept my eyes trained on the book, watching it as a glimmer of light shifted around the daedric symbol in the centre, like a teardrop slipping from an eye. "It was speaking to me."

Martin must have expected me to say more, because he waited. When I didn't continue, he asked, "Did you understand what it said?" in a steady voice.

I shook my head, tearing my eyes from the book to meet his gaze. There was that concern again, written all over his face. I reached out to him, running my thumb over his brow to smooth the knot of worry that had formed there, as I had wanted to do so many times before now. Martin's eyes fluttered at the contact, and I swallowed as my heart started glowing, as his face grew more peaceful.

"We will figure out what it means," I told him quietly, lowering my hand to my lap.

"We will," Martin nodded. "I was thinking about how we were going to do this, last night, after I went to bed," he told me, sounding more measured than before. "I think only one of us should read at a time," he proposed, "and the other should write."

"Write what?" I asked. "What the book is telling us, in daedric?"

Martin nodded again. "Whoever is reading repeats what they hear and we write it down. It will only be a phonetic scribing," he half-shrugged, looking a little uncertain at this, "and it might take a few tries to hear what the other is saying properly. But if it works, it means we may not have to spend days having Mehrunes – I mean, the book," he reconsidered, "speaking to us. Once we have a portion written, we can try to translate it from our notes, with our minds unclouded."

It was somewhere to start, and a good idea, so I agreed, hoping that it would be as linear a process as he outlined. "All right. Let's try that."

Naturally, Martin insisted that he read first, and I write. I refused, countering that I should read first since I was hearing Camoran's translations when the book spoke, and I might be able to discern a meaning faster that way. In truth, I wanted to delay seeing that look of pain cross his face, as it had the previous night when he'd opened the _Xarxes,_ as much as I knew that we would both need to read it eventually.

Martin wouldn't relent, and after a few more counter-arguments he simply pulled the book toward him. "I am the scholar," he told me rationally. "I have more experience with the tricks the Daedric Princes play on our minds," he added. Again, I wondered how he could have, when he had been devoted to Akatosh and it had been I who had run into Oblivion. A smile quirked at the corner of his mouth. "Besides, my handwriting is terrible," he finished.

I gave him an unimpressed look at his insistence and questionable reasoning, then gave in and picked up a quill, reaching for a blank piece of notepaper. "As you wish, Your majesty," I sighed pointedly. Jauffre was right, he _could_ argue, when he wanted to.

Martin's expression sobered, and I felt bad immediately.

"I'm sorry-" I rushed quietly, not quite believing how rude I had sounded to my own ears.

"Please, don't call me that," Martin cut in. He sounded sad. "Not until I deserve it," he added.

I realised that he hadn't withdrawn because I had been rude, but because I had called him by his title. I lowered the quill, the sorrow in his voice making me ache again and wish I hadn't said anything. Jauffre had mentioned that Martin had been troubled since arriving at Cloud Ruler Temple, and had assumed that it was in part because of me, and in part because he had been ordered to be idle. But was this why?

"Deserve it?" I asked him gently. "Martin, you've given up everything you knew to be right and normal about your life," I insisted. He looked no happier when I spoke, as though he didn't hear me at all. "You've..." I continued, searching for the right words, and the daedric symbol on the cover of the _Mysterium Xarxes_ glared up at me. I tore myself from it's judgement, and focused on Martin instead.

He was staring at a spot on the desk in front of us, and I raised my hand to him again, because my words didn't seem to be reaching him.

I touched his jaw, but he didn't react, so I turned his chin up, so he would look at me. That incredible despondency was back in place and I bit my bottom lip, remembering what Jauffre had said earlier in his study. He had said that Martin would have to get used to doing things he didn't like, for the good of something greater than himself. But Jauffre was wrong, so wrong, to interpret Martin's retreat as something akin to selfishness, for the loss of the life he had once lead. Martin had been a priest, healing and comforting others around him selflessly, for some years now. He _was_ used to giving to others, for the good of something greater, but in a humble, anonymous way. And now...?

"Please, Martin," I whispered. "You're about to cast your mind into a book written by a Daedric Prince, for the good of everybody but yourself," I told him, suppressing the dread I felt at the thought of Martin being thralled by the hateful book, for any length of time. "You don't _deserve_ it, but you _insisted_ upon it," I reminded him. "We need you, and your courage, now more than ever. We can't do this without you."

Martin's big sad eyes were pleading, though I wasn't sure whether it was so I would continue with, or stop what I was saying. I shifted my hand a little, cupping his cheek, and felt relief flood me when he leaned unashamedly into my touch, closed his eyes and sighed.

"Sarina," he said in a quiet voice, as he raised his hand to cover mine. "This is all so _very_ strange," he admitted, as he opened his eyes, and lowered his hand. "But I am being selfish again. I'm sorry. What I _deserve_ is not the point," he said, somewhat morosely. "We must focus, and get this done."

I retrieved the quill, clearing my throat a little and wondering when the lump had risen there. "Try to speak the words, as soon as you hear them," I bade. "I will write them out as fast as I can."

Martin huffed a bit of a laugh. "This is madness."

A pang of frustration cut through me and I gave him a quick glance, taking a breath before I spoke. "It may well be, but we will endure it," I told him as gently as I could.

Martin nodded, his face a little more determined, but still visibly grim.

He then opened the book in his arms, staring down at the two single pages spread before him. I half expected to see light emanating from it, or hear the rushing noise and hissing voice from my own experience, and from my dream. But I heard and saw nothing unordinary. Martin's eyes bore down on the page, and I watched him closely for signs of trouble.

After a moment, he closed his eyes, and raised his head. There was a trace of a wince on his brows, but I forced myself to remain where I was. Martin had insisted last night that he had been fine, when this had happened, and I had to trust that he was, or we would get nowhere.

He opened his mouth, drew a deep breath, then spoke.

" _Wehefhed ekem neht iya wevayem lyrkoht_ ," he began.

I felt the dread that I had been trying to suppress in its full force, very suddenly. A chill swept over me as he drawled the unfamiliar sounds. I scribbled down what I could make out of the alien language, forcing myself to concentrate only on what I was hearing, and not on who was saying it.

" _...tayem hefedekem ekmaym roht tahyfed..._ " he continued, pausing to take another laboured breath.

Tears sprang to my eyes as I wrote letters that formed nonsense words. We would have to repeat this process, many times, to make sure what I was writing was correct. This _was_ madness.

" _...hefhed ayemya tayem hekfhed yoodth lyr..._ "

How would we ever translate it?

" _...rohtkem weyem roht dogh_."

I stared down at my page of hurried, scratchy text as Martin paused again, drawing another deep, heavy breath, as though the air had more weight than he could bear.

"Martin," I called to him, shaking my head to cast off tears. He didn't respond. "Please, stop."

" _Ayembeht ohtvehk ekem-_ "

He hadn't heard me. I hastily wiped my eyes and put down the quill, then reached across him and closed the book. "Martin?" I called again.

Just like the night before, Martin opened his eyes, blinking a few times as he shook off the effects of the _Xarxes_.

He looked up to me once his eyes had refocussed on reality. "Is it working? Are you getting this?"

I nodded, sitting back and indicating my notes. "You are speaking very quickly, but I think so. Give me the book, and we'll see if you write the same words from what I hear."

Martin looked uncertainly between me and what I had written, and kept hold of the book.

I pushed my notes toward him. "We need to make sure we're writing what the book is telling us correctly," I was desperate to give him a break, and I scrabbled for excuses. "Stop me when you hear this phrase," I pointed to the last words I'd jotted down - _rohtkem weyem roht dogh_.

Martin swallowed, looking at the words I had written, then glanced back up and nodded. His voice shook a little when he replied. "All right."

I sighed with relief when he handed the book to me. A part of me wondered if my relief was caused by the _Xarxes_ compulsion, willing me to read it again, but even if it was, I had to take my turn. I waited until he'd picked up his quill and positioned it over a blank piece of notepaper before I cast my eyes down to the shining cover.

When I opened the _Xarxes_ and looked into it, it was as it had been in the Mythic Dawn ritual chamber. A rushing noise filled my ears, like a swell of ocean waves crashing against a jagged cliff, and both the daedric hissing, and Mankar Camoran's voice, surged through me like a torrent.

I listened for the daedric, and tried to dismiss Camoran's whisperings in my ear, wishing the distraction away. As I focussed on the sound of the daedric voice, it grew louder, and Camoran's ramblings were diminished and forced into the background.

Feeling outside of my own body, I noted that I was taking a breath, as one might note that the sun had risen. The daedric was clearer now, but still only a mutter, and I wanted to start the book again now I could hear it unimpeded. The daedric voice flowing through me paused, then spoke again, and I realised that it was beginning it's speech from the start, as though I had turned a page back and started again.

It spoke and I spoke with it, though I gained no understanding of what the words meant. There was no waiting to hear what the book said, only words, repeated in time with the voice that first spoke them, as though they were etched onto my memories like a mantra, and the book, or voice, simply unlocked the memory. The daedric voice flowed through my mind and the part of me that could feel felt dread again, but it was separate from me, as though I was two people, and the dread was outside of the part of me speaking the words Mehrunes Dagon had produced. I saw nothing; I was blind, and there was only sound.

Then it stopped. I felt my mind catch up to whatever the book had done, and remembered that there were such things as sight and touch and breath, as my eyes fluttered open and I gasped for air.

Martin was kneeling by my side, his trembling hand on my arm. "That's enough," he spoke with an edge of command, though there was a waver to his voice. "You're...you've reached the same point as me."

I turned my eyes down to the closed book in my hands – Martin must have closed it - registering Martin's hand had moved to my forehead, then was smoothing my hair over my head. The cover gleamed, and the blackness of the symbol on the cover was a void, drawing and clawing at me to continue learning from it.

"Sarina!" Martin said urgently, turning me by my chin, so I had to look at him.

I recognised his worried blue gaze, and came back to myself again, blinking. "Yes?"

Martin gave me an exasperated look and stood, taking the book and placing it on the table beside us, out of reach. When he turned back to me, he had charged a spell.

I recognised the spell; Healing, again, and shook my head quickly, as I forced myself to smile so he would see that I was well. "I am fine," I told him, siting back more comfortably in my seat.

"Please, let me," he insisted quietly, urging me to sit forward again, placing the palm of his charged hand on my cheek, with his fingers at my temple.

His fingertips tingled against me, and I felt the warmth of his spell flow through me, easing an ache in my head that I hadn't realised was there.

I watched his face as he concentrated; his eyes gleaming with determination, but his mouth set, and grim.

"Did you get it?" I asked him. "What I said?" I confirmed, when his eyes flickered from where his hand was placed, to my own. "Did it match what you said?"

Martin hesitated. "I wrote down what you said," he murmured, as his spell dissipated. "I haven't compared it yet."

I indicated our notes. "We should compare them before we try reading again," I told him.

Martin cast his eyes to the desk, where our scribbled notes lay. He picked up his chair, and set it down by my side. I noticed the tightness in his shoulders and neck as he moved, and I wondered what he had seen, or what I had done, while I'd been speaking, to shake him so. All I could remember was sound.

I spoke up with some hesitancy. "It will get easier," I promised him.

He handed me the scribbles I had made earlier. "I know," he sat finally, and smoothed his notes out in front of us. He cleared his throat. "I have ' _Whed emht ee ya wayem lyrkot_ '..."

I glanced at him as he spoke, marvelling at his determination despite the dire task and the anxious gloominess that seemed to overcome him at times. His healing spell had eased me, and his tenacity gave me some strength, and hope. I turned to look over my own notes.

For a while we compared the small passage we had scribed, each crossing out or circling portions that we had either heard completely differently, or had matched closely. After a while I grabbed another piece of notepaper, and started writing out the repeated sounds that we had heard, figuring that they must have been repeated words. If we could determine what those words, or sounds, were, we could start to decode the rest, we reasoned. Martin then started writing out a list of books that we thought might help decode it, which we would ask the next group of Blades travelling to Bruma for supplies to try retrieve for us.

We were interrupted by a Blade eventually; an Imperial man who I'd not seen before, who told us that lunch was being served.

Martin looked annoyed and I thought he'd dismiss the man, but I put my hand on Martin's arm quickly and spoke first.

"Thank you. We will be there directly," I turned to Martin next. "I am _starving_ ," I told him.

I wasn't, but he needed to get away from the _Mysterium Xarxes_ and our translation for a while. And, I had to keep my promise to Jauffre, that we wouldn't spend day and night obsessing over the book.

Martin regarded me for a moment and then nodded. "I suppose I have earned it."

We rose, leaving our notes where they lay. I felt troubled at how he had worded his agreement. I resolved that I would ask Martin to come and meet Caroline, and train with me, after we had eaten. With any luck, we wouldn't have the time, or energy, to return to the library after whatever Caroline had in store for us.

The hall was noisy, half full of Blades in plain clothes, also taking their lunch, when Martin and I entered. I walked toward the fireplace, where the breakfast things had been, assuming that lunch would also be there. Martin trailed after me silently. When we had each collected a bowl of soup (root vegetables, by the looks of it) I walked to the empty end of the nearest table.

Martin sat opposite me, smiling unsurely and nodding a wordless greeting to the Blades down the table from us. Each bowed their heads in a silent reply greeting with due respect. They resumed eating and talking amongst themselves straight away.

"So," I caught his attention, not liking what I was seeing around us. "That was quite a morning," I sighed.

Martin smiled at me, though he was distracted and it was as though he smiled out of habit, as he dipped a piece of bread in his soup a few times idly.

What had Martin been doing, each day, for the past two weeks, I wondered? The thought of him in this cold fortress, surrounded by others but all by himself, retreating to the library that had too few books in it to be a decent distraction, made my heart ache. The Blades had their training and routine, their camaraderie and quests. Jauffre had his reports and organising. Even Brother Piner had his silence and grief and fire lighting duties. What about Martin? Had Jauffre expected him to flourish when he had nothing to do, barely knew anybody, and had nothing in common with anyone? The Blades were unlikely to make the effort to engage him in conversation, being who he was.

 _You are not alone_ , I wanted to tell him, but instead, I renewed my smile and grew more resolved to help him, where I could. If he got to know some of the Blades, then this would become easier for him. I took a small spoonful of soup, wondering if he was going to eat or simply continue drowning the piece of bread in his hand, which he seemed to have forgotten about.

"I was wondering," I began, after I had swallowed, and I was happy to see him eat the soup-soaked bread then. "I have asked my bodyguard, Caroline, if she would teach me some short range fighting skills this afternoon."

This got Martin's attention, and he seemed to look at me properly then. "You want to fight?" he asked, with evident confusion.

I shook my head. "Of course not," I tried to keep things light, and poked at him with my spoon. "But I can't keep relying on others to save me in the middle of the night," I joked.

Martin rolled his eyes and did laugh a little at this, shuffling in his seat. He sounded a little better when he asked, "What is it you were wondering?"

It warmed me to see him laugh. "I was wondering," I repeated pointedly, "if you would like to take lessons with me?"

Martin gave me a slightly bewildered look. "Why?"

I shrugged. "You and I are both able to defend ourselves at range," I reasoned. "But I thought you might enjoy extending your repertoire. Besides, it will get us outside for the afternoon," I countered. "We have been stuffed up inside all morning," I ate a little more soup before continuing.

"When I was in the City," I started to explain, since he had grown quiet again, "I wasn't allowed outside, for _two whole weeks_ ," I told him. "It was like being under arrest. I almost forgot what the sun felt like," I shook my head, hoping that this would reach him, then met Martin's gaze with an imploring look. "So...what do you think?"

Martin shrugged. "Aren't there more important things to do?" he asked. "The _Xarxes_ won't translate itself, and the Blades are always so busy."

I shook my head. "The Blades have a roster," I told him, bristling that nobody had bothered telling Martin anything, and grateful that I'd insisted on coming up to Cloud Ruler Temple with Baurus. "Caroline was telling me about it this morning, when I asked her about training me," I explained. "She said that she was free this afternoon. I'm going to meet her at the entrance, after we've finished here," I indicated the soup, then turned back to him. "Please come, Martin. I'm going to be _useless_ ," I pleaded.

His lips curled into a half smile, "So, you want me there, to take attention away from how bad you are?" he teased.

I hadn't, but it would do, if it made him feel better and agree. "Please?" I asked again.

Martin sighed, but there was some happiness to it, as he shook his head and laughed to himself. "All right, why not?" he said.

I beamed at him. "Thank you!"

"We can be useless together!" he continued, in a sort of mocking, proud tone.

The Blades down the table from us paused their conversation to look at us curiously, and I laughed at their bewildered expressions, lowering my head to cover my mouth.

"Yes," I giggled, raising my eyes, glad to see his were shining with amusement now. "What a pair we make," I tutted.


	20. Duty

As tends to happen when one is in any place for a time, life at Cloud Ruler Temple adopted a blur of routine.

I was relieved to notice that as the days passed, Martin's despondency waned. Trying to wrap our minds around the _Mysterium Xarxes_ gave Martin a fierce sense of purpose, when he'd otherwise felt worthless to the bodies moving around him for the good of the Empire that he'd inherited.

Feeling as though he deserved to be part of events, finally, his relationship with Jauffre had begun to repair itself, and the two had started to take meetings together in the privacy of Jauffre's office, each day before breakfast. Martin had even stopped wincing every time the Blades called him _Sire._

Training with Caroline was extremely taxing, and as we'd expected, Martin and I were incredibly useless, unfit, and had a long way to go. I had been nowhere near as prepared for it as I'd thought I would be. During each session she first made us run laps around the chilly courtyard; a task which seemed to amuse the other Blades (though they tried their best not to show it) as we gasped through our warm-up, cursing everything from the thin air to eating too much for lunch to Caroline's methods. After warming up, we would retreat to the training room within the temple, and perform weaponless drills against the training dummies. Caroline had instructed that swords were extensions of the body, and until the body was prepared we posed more risk to ourselves with a blade in our hand than we did to any would-be attackers.

There was little time for talk, or to explore our affection for one another beyond the occasional touch or chaste kiss to the forehead, outside of our routine. Martin and I were usually so physically exhausted by the end of Caroline's training session, and mentally exhausted from our work on the _Xarxes_ translation, that we would excuse ourselves after dinner in the dining hall, and each, separately, retire early.

I felt guilty that I hadn't found any time to start explaining the complicated and lengthy list of Tamriel's nobles to Martin, let alone the etiquette he would be expected to present, but I reasoned that translating the _Xarxes_ , and better arming ourselves for whatever the immediate future brought, had to take priority. A small, childish part of me also insisted that perhaps if we didn't find the time to talk of such things while we were at Cloud Ruler Temple, Martin would still have need of me when he became Emperor.

I would shake the notion away whenever it pushed its way into my thoughts. My regard and respect for Martin was growing, as I got to know him better, but we were both being driven by an urgency to find the way to Mankar Camoran's 'Paradise', and it had to come before all else. Unless we succeeded, Martin wouldn't _need_ to know how to behave in court. But, I had promised Jauffre that I would teach him, and so I had resolved to look out for an opportunity to broach the subject with Martin.

Over a fortnight had passed since Baurus and I had arrived at Cloud Ruler Temple. Sunlight streamed through the high window into what I now considered to be my room, and I woke sluggishly. My arms and legs and the muscles of my belly ached and I winced as I sat up, blinking away a dreamless sleep that had felt as though it had only lasted minutes. I was _starving_. And, I was alone.

Where is Caroline, I immediately wondered? Despite my insistence that she had no duty to me, she had been there when I had woken every morning, and I had enjoyed her being there. While she did whatever she felt like to my hair, and I let her as though I was a doll, she would tell me about the Blades' missions around Cyrodiil; news of Oblivion gates being closed and Mythic Dawn agents being captured, though none seemed to know of a way to follow their Master and the Amulet. The previous day, she had told me that there was a big mission underway to find Mankar Camoran's daughter, Ruma. Apparently there had also been a son, called Raven, but Baurus had had a 'run-in' with him, as Caroline called it, while we'd been in the Imperial City. Of course, Baurus hadn't realised who Raven was at the time, since we had known so little of the Mythic Dawn all those weeks ago. It was believed that Ruma, who I knew as the Altmer woman who had recognised me and ordered me to be used as a sacrifice to Dagon in the Mythic Dawn hideout, would know a way to retrieve her father. I didn't doubt that if the Blades found her, they would make her talk.

But this morning, I was alone. Reminding myself that Caroline had a duty to the Blades that came before me, and had likely been sent on a mission by Jauffre, I looked through the cupboard for some clothes and thought about my own duty, changed forever, in a way I could never have imagined.

Again, I wondered what place I would have in the world, once Martin became Emperor. We cared for one another, but where would that lead once the threat to Tamriel was gone? Certainly, I was part of the nobility of Cyrodiil and had been a suitable match for the _youngest_ son of the Emperor, but I doubted that Martin would be so simply matched. Noble unions were formed for political benefit or consolidation of property, and an Emperor would have no need of the Passero estate. Logic had to rule the situation, didn't it?

I donned a thick, long-sleeved white shirt, a loose, dove-grey dress, and a simple, fitted forest-green doublet. I dressed slowly with my mind elsewhere, pondering what would become of our future, mine and Martin's, and if one could exist where we spent it together. My heart ached at the thought of being separated from him forever, but once he was coronated and in the White-Gold Tower, knew all he needed to know of the world he had become a part of, and I had returned to Rosethorn Hall, we might barely see each other, let alone be close to one another again. Not with an Empire to rebuild.

But I would always remember our time together, I promised myself, no matter what came after this. Our duties rose higher than needs or wants, and the prospects of love. Just as mine always had, and just as ours always would.

Sighing and running my fingers through my hair, I cast a glance at myself in the mirror. I had lost weight, since leaving the Tower. Or had I started to gain muscle? I hoped it was the latter, for I had a feeling that despite Jauffre's efforts to keep both Martin and I away from battle, I would soon need all the strength I could muster.

And with that sobering thought, my inner musings inevitably drifted to the _Mysterium Xarxes_. Martin and I really were making slow progress on it – a couple of paragraphs that we could barely agree on, translated at a guess, based on a few books that Blades had retrieved for us when they'd had the time and opportunity. If only Tar-Meena had been allowed up to Cloud Ruler Temple, I knew the mage would be able to make quicker sense of it than we were. But Jauffre had forbidden us from sending any letters detailing what we were doing, despite my protests, so for now at least, Tar-Meena was out of reach.

 _Martin is a mage too,_ I reminded myself. Most priests had some skill with the restorative arts, and Martin knew a few destructive spells on top of those. _And he seems to have an unerring knowledge of the daedra,_ I added thoughtfully.

I made my way to the main hall, wondering how Martin seemed to know so much. Was it the Septim's Gift of foresight? Probably.

It must have been earlier than I had thought it was. Breakfast was being laid out in front of the fire place still, and the room was largely empty. No Caroline, and no Martin, I noticed straight away.

But there was a face I recognised; Baurus, sitting at one of the bench tables, by himself and sipping from a mug. He looked thoughtful and weary, though not grim.

I hurriedly collected some scrambled eggs and a cup of tea, then sat opposite the Blade to whom I owed my life, several times over. I hadn't seen him since we'd arrived that first night.

"Good morning, Baurus," I greeted him cheerily with a smile.

Baurus shook himself out of whatever thought had been occupying him and set his mug down on the table, bowing his head. "Good morning, my Lady. You are looking well. Did you sleep restfully?" he asked, just as formally as I remembered him being, before we'd visited Chorrol.

I nodded. "Please, call me Sarina up here, Baurus, there's no need for titles amongst friends. And yes, I did, actually. You?"

The corner of Baurus' mouth rose, in a half-wince, as he rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. "I have been on night watch, these past two weeks. Haven't been to bed, yet."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm keeping you up." That explained why I hadn't seen him around Cloud Ruler Temple.

Baurus shook his head. "No, my Lady, I am happy to talk in the warm hall, while I finish my mead."

I sighed at the persistent 'my Lady' business, thinking that it alienated me more than it did him. "Did any Blades depart on missions late last night?" I enquired.

Baurus nodded, taking another sip from his mug before explaining. "Yes, quite a number in fact. Captain Steffan left with all who could be spared, bound for Bruma - something about Mythic Dawn spies," he waved his hand toward the doors that lead outside, in the direction of Bruma, I guessed.

"I expect they'll return shortly," he told me. "Spies are usually lone, shifty creatures who give themselves away by trying to run when faced with exposure, especially when those exposing them carry swords."

 _So that's where Caroline has gone_ , I thought.

"Will they bring the spy up here?" I asked, wondering what spies of the Mythic Dawn could be seeking. They already had the upper hand, with the Amulet lost to us; they must have known that. What could they be wanting to learn from us that they didn't already know?

"I doubt it," Baurus sighed, and I could see that he was more tired than he was letting on. "Too risky with the Emperor here. No," he added. "They'll question whoever they find in Bruma, and then," he hesitated, flicking me a glance.

 _Kill them_ , was left unsaid.

I nodded. "I see."

Baurus sat a little straighter. "How goes your research into the _Mysterium Xarxes_?"

Now, it was my turn to sigh. I expressed my frustration at how difficult the task was; how slow we were having to be.

"If only there was a way of directing the book to what you needed to know, to open the portal," Baurus mused.

I shrugged, helplessly. "We don't even know what most of what we're hearing means, yet. It could be exactly what we need to know to retrieve the Amulet, or it could be a recipe for chicken soup," I rolled my eyes.

Baurus laughed despite the seriousness of the situation, which made me smile. I looked up as the door in the direction of Jauffre's office opened and Martin stepped into the hall, his eyes searching the room.

I doubled my smile; he looked well. He must have had a productive meeting with the Grandmaster. He noticed me, and his smile lit up his face, stirring an uplifting warmth from deep within me. He motioned that he would get some food, and I nodded, turning back to Baurus.

"We will figure it out," I promised the Blade; a phrase I was saying on a daily basis, trying to live in hope.

Baurus' eyes were filled with astonishment, as his gaze flickered between Martin and I, but I ignored the look. Let him think what he would. As I had promised myself that morning; however fleeting my time was to be with Martin, I was determined not to waste it by ignoring our friendship, or our regard for one another, even if our duties might inevitably separate us some day.

Martin groaned as he sat down next to me, complaining that every part of him hurt, cursing Caroline, but with amusement in his tone. Baurus looked concerned as he greeted him, and I quickly explained that Caroline was teaching us some close-range fighting skills.

"But if Caroline is away," I bit my lip, and wondered if this was the opportunity I had been waiting for, to begin explaining what life in the Imperial City would be like for Martin.

Baurus asked some questions about what Caroline was teaching us, which Martin answered, while we finished our breakfasts. My mind swam with memories of my own teachings; of sitting in the large, airy drawing room that we used for my studies, being taught about the families, lineages, regions owned and disputed, alliances and bitterest of enemies, and the history of each. In the face of what we had to conquer, before any of it would become relevant again, a part of me wondered if we would be better off spending the entire day focusing on the _Xarxes_ translation, instead.

The longer I could delay talking about what came after we found the Amulet of Kings, the less I had to think about what _my_ future would entail.

 _No_ , I told myself sternly, chiding my selfishness. I had promised Jauffre I would help Martin with this. He wouldn't have asked it of me, if he had not thought it to be important, though obviously it was not our first priority.

Soon enough, Baurus had finished his mead and retreated to his bed, and Martin and I headed to the library, to begin our morning's work on the _Xarxes_ translation. I would broach the matter of his future with him after lunch, I promised myself.

–

"Do you think there might be a way to stop the _Xarxes_ from starting over each time?" Martin asked, holding my usual chair out for me.

"What do you mean?" I asked as I dispelled the distant future from my thoughts and looked to the hated book as I took my seat. I glared at the emblem on the front cover.

Martin sat where he usually sat, perpendicular to me, and picked up the _Mysterium Xarxes_. "When it speaks to us," he confirmed. "Each time we read, it always starts from the beginning again. I was wondering, last night, if there might be a way to resume where we finished the previous day, instead."

"Oh. I'm not sure," I understood. It wasn't as though we could put a book mark in our place. I readied a quill, dipping it in ink, and took up a piece of notepaper. As was our routine, Martin would begin reading the _Xarxes_ and I would scribe, and then we would switch. Each day, we made it a little further into the book before we stopped each other.

For a while now, we had both been worrying about how slowly we had been carrying out our task. If we could find a way to stop from re-hearing what we had already heard, it would save us a lot of time, and we would be closer to translating it and sending Blades out on retrieval missions. Baurus, for one, would undoubtedly jump at the opportunity to be assigned anywhere but night watch.

Martin prepared to open the book, a look of determination settling on his features as his hand drifted over the cover.

Remembering two things at once, prompted by Martin's musings, I reached out swiftly to keep the _Mysterium Xarxes_ closed, staring wide-eyed at him. "That's it," I whispered.

Martin looked at me quizzically. "What's it?"

I stared down at my hand, on the book's cover. "Baurus said something this morning," I told him hurriedly, "before you arrived, about whether we could _ask_ the book to tell us what we needed to know," my mind raced, and I spoke quickly. "And, I just remembered, the first time I read the _Xarxes_ , in here," I added. "I remember _wishing_ that the book would start over, so I could hear the daedric voice more clearly over Mankar Camoran's ramblings. And it _did._ "

Martin caught on quickly, but confirmed. "You willed the book to restart?"

I nodded, feeling a flare of hope as I removed my hand from the book. "Yes! Martin, do you know what this means?"

"It means we might be able to control it!" he was just as excited and his eyes shone with an added sparkle. "We can _will_ it to tell us about the ritual to open the portal!"

Relieved, I sat back, laughing a little. If it worked, our task would get a lot simpler, and we wouldn't have to translate the entire thing, or be enthralled by the book for such long periods of time. _Thank the Divines._

"Let's see if it works," Martin said eagerly. "Are you ready?"

I adjusted myself, refreshing the ink on the quill again, then nodded. "Ready. Good luck."

"Akatosh, guide me," he murmured. Then he closed his eyes, and opened the _Xarxes._

I waited, watching for signs of strain in Martin's features and forcing myself to stay seated when they appeared. After a moment, he spoke.

" _Cesoht mehtkem selyro weh, ayem nehd bedroht iyaney geth hefbed oohdt kohtkem yahkset-"_

The sounds were not familiar to me. Suppressing the shudder that always rippled through me when I heard Martin speaking the cursed words, I wrote.

–

We weren't certain if our method was working, but by comparing our notes after we'd both had a turn reading from the _Xarxes_ , we determined that we were at least reading – or being read - the same, new, passage.

"We should translate this, before we do any more," Martin decided, eyes roving our two scribings. "The key to everything we need might be here."

I agreed and hurriedly opened the copy of Moslin's _Bible of the Deep Ones_ on the table, which we'd had a Blade retrieve from my father's collection, a week prior. In it was an account by Irlav Moslin of the daedric runes and language, which his note at the start of the book stated was given to him by 'the Deep Ones'. Martin theorised these Deep Ones were a creation of a Daedric Prince. While our phonetic scribings of course didn't match the runic language, when cross-referenced them with the _Mythic Dawn Commentaries: Volume One_ , which we'd also had a Blade retrieve a copy of, we were slowly beginning to make sense of what we were hearing.

All we needed to find, we had determined after our first few sessions with the _Xarxes_ , was the section which Mankar Camoran had discussed in the _Commentaries_ about the storm, plagued rain, tinder of Anu and eyes of Padhome. The four keys. Camoran's translation, if it could be called that, was too flowery and laced in madness and dogma for us to make logical sense of it, but if we found the correct section of the _Mysterium Xarxes_ , we would be able to couple together our own translation, and hopefully from that, understand exactly what we had to prepare to open the portal for ourselves.

As it was, we knew we would need something like the Amulet, but the other items required, and the actual incantation to open the portal once the items were recovered, were still evading us. Tar-Meena's inkling that the Amulet had been taken to be used as a part of the ritual suggested that we'd need to locate another item that contained the blood of one of the Divines.

But, we had to be sure. There was no point in rushing the translation, only to get it wrong and send Blades out to assemble the wrong collection of items, and have to start over.

Absorbed in our translations, I was startled when a Blade on kitchen duty apologetically disturbed us and said that lunch had been laid out.

I stared at the work in front of us, wondering where the time had gone.

Martin leaned back, wiping his ink-stained hands on his trousers.

"We are so close, Sarina," he said, with a warm sense of achievement in his tone. "I can feel it."

I felt lighter as I glanced over his expression; he seemed tranquil, and pleased. A desire to kiss him swept over me like a warm summer's breeze, and I wished that we could stay in the library.

Martin paused when he looked at me; his satisfaction in our success shifting to become something else - something wild, that fuelled my desire to reach across the table to him.

Realising that the feeling may have been nudged at by the compulsive _Xarxes_ in between us, I broke our gaze and let out a breath, nodding toward the door that lead to the main hall. "We should go."

Martin hummed in agreement, as I rose.

As was our routine, and to fulfil the promise I had made to Jauffre, we stopped for the day. I didn't act on my desire, though somewhat regretted it after all my oaths to not waste the time we had together.

But I had promised Jauffre I would not let the book consume us, and each day I stopped myself from asking if we could continue working on it by telling myself that the _Xarxes_ was trying to compel me to request it.

Perhaps today the book was, in sensing that we were closing in on what we needed, trying to manipulate me by using my feelings for Martin to waylay us. That wouldn't do.

During lunch, since Caroline wasn't going to be teaching us that afternoon and with nobody motivating us to jog around the courtyard, I broached the subject of telling him about the people he would be associating with, likely for the rest of his life, though I left the latter unsaid.

I was relieved that Martin wasn't altogether opposed to the idea, so once we finished lunch we retreated to the library, because there was no better place to be left to ourselves. Instead of returning to the table littered with our translation notes, with the _Xarxes_ face-down on top of them, we sat at a different table; smaller, next to the southern exit that lead to the alchemy chamber.

I located a map of Cyrodiil, and spread it out in front of us, before taking my seat next to Martin. The map had been beautifully coloured by whoever had made it, up to the borders of the neighbouring regions. My eyes roved over the uncoloured slivers of Hammerfell, Black Marsh, Elsweyr, Skyrim, Morrowind and Valenwood. I would find maps of those regions once we had gotten through Cyrodiil.

Martin's eyes were also on the map, but they were fixed on a point. I followed his gaze, noticing the tiny scribbled name of the township he was focused on; _Kvatch_.

"Who do you suppose will take over from the Count in Kvatch?" Martin asked sadly.

"Oh," I hadn't thought of that. I noticed Count Goldwine's name written underneath the town he had once represented and managed, and frowned. I tried not to think of the man who had died, and instead of the task at hand. "I suppose you will nominate someone, after you're on the throne."

Martin shook his head a little, and asked in a lowered tone, "How does an Emperor choose a Count in a sea of strangers?"

I considered for a moment, deciding that even if the question had been rhetorical, this was the kind of thing Jauffre expected me to tell Martin about.

"Usually," I sat back, looking at Kvatch on the map, "if there are no children, the position is passed on to a close relative of the last Count or Countess. But, Count Goldwine had no living relatives. At least, none that anybody _knows_ about," I added quickly, "so unless any illegitimate heirs appear, you will need to choose someone of status from the region, who has the city's best interests at heart, and who can help fund the rebuilding of it," I explained. "The Elder Council will help with that, too."

I didn't mention the potential for people to buy their way into the position, though whoever was chosen would likely need to have a lot of coin anyway, so they could fund the enormous task of raising the city from the Oblivion gate's ashes.

Martin looked up from the map quickly, and fixed his eyes on me. "What about you? You're a noble – and you're the Hero of Kvatch."

I paled at his suggestion, remembering how Ocato had seen fit to have me sit in Count Goldwine's place at the Elder Council meeting, too. In my imaginings of what might happen after the Oblivion gates were closed and Mehrunes Dagon's invasion was no longer a threat, I had not contemplated being in charge of anything larger than Rosethorn Hall.

"I don't think I'd be very good at running a city," I tried to smile.

"I don't think I'd be very good at running an Empire," Martin countered. "It scares the life out of me," he added, though his tone was lighter, and I dimly wondered if he had asked me about Kvatch because he was trying to get me to see some point of view of his, and not because he actually meant it.

"That's quite a bit different," I did manage a half-smile, now. "You won't be on your own. You'll have the High Chancellor, and the Blades, and I'm sure Jauffre would come out of retirement permanently to offer you counsel, if you asked him to. Plus, you'll have the Elder Council, who you'll lead in making the more important decisions together."

Martin seemed to take all of this information in thoughtfully, his eyes searching the map. I wondered what he was searching for, and waited, sensing another question was coming, and gave him the time to form it.

He didn't look at me when he asked it; his voice oddly even. "And where will you be, during all of this?"

I stilled as my heart skipped a beat. Martin did turn his eyes to me then, and despite the lightness in his tone when he'd asked, I could see questions in those depths that both encouraged and frightened me.

I told myself to breathe, before I answered. As much as I wondered about our future, I could not bear bringing it out in the open like this, because that might seal my fate. "According to you, I'll be re-building Kvatch," I raised an eyebrow at him.

Martin relaxed a little, and shook his head with a quiet laugh. "You know that's not what I was asking," he pressed, reaching his hand out to cover mine, where it lay on the centre of the map, over the beautifully rendered Imperial City.

 _You are a terrible teacher, Sarina,_ I told myself, as I looked at our hands, wondering how I had let him lead me so far from the topic we were _supposed_ to be discussing. I knew that Martin feared what the future would bring as much as I did, and that he bore it with grace and kindness, and could rise above the fear, made me respect him all the more. Again, I wondered at how his bravery never failed to inspire me to be better, and to find my own courage in the face of so much uncertainty.

I turned my hand and twined my fingers in his, focusing on our hands. It wasn't my decision, where I would be. It never was, was it? I wanted to answer him, as honestly as I could, but couldn't bare to voice the truth.

"You're my Emperor," I looked to him finally, giving him a small smile. He wasn't smiling, and the trace of uncertainty I could see in his expression made me long to lighten the mood again. I nudged at him with my shoulder. "If you want me to rebuild Kvatch, I will see that it is done."

He shook his head. "You dance around my question with the grace of a true aristocrat," he sighed, perhaps concluding that I didn't have a straight answer for him. But in all fairness, I didn't think he'd asked me a direct question, either. "Jauffre did warn me of this," he spoke in a teasing manner.

"Did he?" I raised my eyebrows, relieved to feel the air lighten between us. "What else did Jauffre _warn_ you about me?"

"Oh, you know how Jauffre is," Martin said dismissively, easing our joined hands from the table, using our connection to turn me, so that we were facing each other. His other hand rose, his fingers gracing my cheek as he tucked some of my hair behind my ear. "You never wear your hair down," he murmured thoughtfully, his eyes on his hand as it rested under my ear, and his fingers twined into my hair. "It looks so lovely."

The light-hearted atmosphere had shifted so easily, into a warm haze that reminded me of the Healing spells Martin had been so insistent on casting on me when we had first met. I was unsure of how to respond, so simply watched him as the haze enveloped me, and once within it, the urge to kiss him swept through me again, stronger than earlier.

His gaze shifted sideways, and he was staring into my soul, his smile gone. "Please, tell me," he started softly, but his eyes yet again betrayed him, full of the yearning uncertainty from before, "that you will stay by my side, when this war is over."

I gasped at his wording, for it had been as good as a proposal. I knew that he mustn't have realised that he would need to be politically matched. I had been so obsessed with my own musings over the fact, and had not yet taught him of the importance of his lineage, because _I_ had been avoiding it.

He continued, leaning forward, and I had the thought that he had taken my silence as a refusal. "Sarina, don't make me do this without you," he pleaded.

I was stunned into silence, and unsure of how to answer, so I simply gave in to what I wanted at that moment. I closed the gap between us, raising my free hand to his cheek, and pressed my lips softly to his. For all of my promises that I would make the most of whatever time we had together, the discussion leading us to this point had me torn between my heart's desire, and the wall that was my deep-seated duty, that I had been raised within all of my life.

He urged me closer to him, making a small, pleased noise at the back of his throat as he did; a sound that made the wall holding me back begin to shake, and crumble. The spell that Martin wasn't even aware he'd cast on me at his words lit a flicker of hope; a tiny, guttering flame in the otherwise dense shadow of the unknown future; hope that perhaps we _would_ have a say, and perhaps even a chance to have a life together.

Separating from him to take a breath, I spoke honestly, before I thought. "I have been wanting to do that all day," I revealed in a rush.

Martin smiled where his lips were pressed, against my cheek. His warm breath tickled me when he asked, "Why didn't you sooner?"

I shook my head, as it slowly stopped spinning. "I don't remember."

I felt Martin laugh a little; a deep rumble in his chest, and then another warm brush of air, as he ducked his head down again. His lips found mine this time, and his gentleness took my breath away for a second time. After a brief, blazing moment, he retreated and I noticed it was because he was chuckling.

"Wait," he was saying through his laughter.

Before I could feel embarrassed or wonder what I had done wrong, he pulled back far enough to look at me and I saw mirth in his eyes. He was shaking his head, a small smile playing on his lips.

"You still haven't answered me," he reminded me, in mock accusation.

Oh. "Haven't I?" I asked innocently, unable to keep the smile from my eyes in the face of Martin's rousing amusement.

"No," he looked down at me fondly, calming himself, though his eyes still shone, as though he already had his answer. "Will you?" he confirmed.

Would I answer, or would I stay with him, I wondered?

 _It doesn't matter which_ , I told myself. _The answer is always going to be yes._

"Of course I will stay by you," I promised, the flicker of hope he'd kindled making me courageous. _For whatever time the Divines allow us to have_ , my mind added.


	21. Spies and Keys

Half-way through dinner that evening, the Blades returned to the stronghold, Caroline among them. They were silent, and while the majority filed through the main hall and made directly for the armoury, Captain Steffan split off from the group and strode purposefully toward Jauffre's office. I knew little of the tall Imperial Captain, other than that he was Jauffre's second-in-command; he seemed to always be away from Cloud Ruler Temple on business.

Caroline glanced at me as she made her way with the others. I supposed that they were going to stow their armour before they sat down to dinner for themselves. I must have conveyed some of my curiousity across the room to her, because she shook her head, conveying her own message of 'not now'. Her eyes flicked to Martin, before she looked away again.

"I suppose I had better go see Jauffre," Martin sighed, picking up his plate, his meal only half-eaten.

Caroline's expression had made me very nervous all of a sudden. What had they found? The spy, or spies? Why was everybody so grim? Had the spies not been dealt with? I turned to Martin as he gathered his tankard in his other hand. The crease of worry on his brow didn't ease my nerves, and I stood hastily.

"May I come?" I asked, ashamed of how small and frightened I must have sounded.

Martin regarded me, his brows still knotted. "Are you all right?"

I wanted to nod, but couldn't lie to him, and my reaction had already betrayed my budding anxiety as it was.

When I didn't answer him, Martin sighed and nodded to my partially-eaten dinner. "You had better bring that with you. We might be a while."

Now I did nod, but left my meal where it was, and strode toward the rear of the dining hall. I was no longer hungry.

Martin followed me to Jauffre's office. The silence between us was somehow all-consuming, and deafening. I wished that he would speak, but wasn't sure myself of what to say.

Martin knocked, then spoke before any answer came from within.

"Jauffre? It's Martin, and Sarina. May we join you?"

After a pause, and the sound of a chair scraping against the wooden floor, the door was opened and the Grandmaster of the Blades stood before us. His eyes were fierce, though the fierceness wasn't directed at either of us.

"Sire, this can wait until morning."

"No it can't," Martin stepped into the room, around Jauffre, and addressed Captain Steffan. "Captain, what has happened?"

Captain Steffan was sitting behind Jauffre's desk with his back rigidly straight, but when he saw Martin, he stood and bowed. He'd taken off his helmet, but was still wearing the rest of his armour.

"Sire, I have only now begun my report."

The Captain's steel-grey eyes looked hard, despite the respect in his tone; again, it was obvious that his frustration wasn't caused by our interruption of his report. Still from within the doorway, I noticed a smear of blood on his cuirass, and paled. What _had_ happened? Baurus had suggested that the spies matter was as simple one, that morning.

"You may as well come in, Lady Passero," Jauffre sounded grim, turning back to his desk. I closed the door behind me and trailed into the room, wondering why I had asked to come, beyond wary curiousity, and why they were allowing me to stay.

"Take your seat, Captain," Martin spoke up plainly, placing his dinner on Jauffre's desk, then retrieving a chair from the side of the room. After a moment, I noticed that he wasn't sitting in it, but was nodding to me. I hurried forward, accepting it, feeling foolish for not realising sooner.

Both Jauffre and the Captain watched our exchange; Jauffre impatient, but unspeaking, and the Captain a little surprised. Once I was seated, he seemed to finally hear Martin's words, and sat as well.

I dimly wondered if Martin realised his suggestion had been interpreted as an order?

"Won't you take a seat, Sire?" Jauffre asked, motioning to several other chairs along the side wall.

"Thank you, but I would rather stand," he replied, with some stiffness to his voice. Martin remained standing behind me, his hands placed on the back of my chair.

Jauffre cast his eyes away from where Martin's hands rested and sat, then, his attention back on the Captain. "Captain, it might be best if you began your report again."

The Captain nodded, and his hands shifted. I noticed, for the first time, that there was a small letter in his grasp. I stared at the letter, as the Captain spoke.

"The gate guards were correct," his voice was deep and commanding, though somewhat grave. "There were Mythic Dawn agents based in Bruma, scouting Cloud Ruler Temple and reporting back to their leaders."

Again, I wondered what spies could possibly learn from us that would pose a threat up here, but remained quiet, folding my hands together in my lap so that I wouldn't fidget with them. I felt one of Martin's hands rest on my shoulder, reassuringly, and steadied my breathing. Why was I so frightened? I had no idea what the Captain would say.

"They have been silenced?" Jauffre asked.

Captain Steffan nodded. "And with the assistance of Captain Burd, of the Bruma guard, we were able to locate the spies and unearth their plans," he indicated the note in his hands, passing it across the desk to Jauffre.

Jauffre took the note and began reading immediately. As the Captain leaned back into his seat, he glanced at Martin, which prompted me to look over my shoulder to do the same. Martin's eyes were trained on Jauffre, and his mouth was set in a straight line.

"Jauffre?" Martin asked after a moment of silence.

The Grandmaster's eyes scanned quickly as he read, then he shook his head, stood, and passed the note over my head for Martin to take. He removed his hand from my shoulder to receive it, and a chill flooded me.

"What is it?" I looked between all three of them, wishing anyone would speak, instead of persisting with this horrible weighty silence. "What are their plans?"

Martin scanned the note, but it was Jauffre who offered a reply.

"As I suspected, they know we have Martin hidden here," he said as he took his seat once more. He nodded to the Captain. "They must have noticed all of the Blade's activity in the region."

"What's passed is past, Grandmaster," the Captain replied with certainty. "Though in light of what's to come, I propose we recall any Blades who are not on essential missions immediately."

"Agreed," Jauffre snapped curtly. "Have you any more to add?"

The Captain stood, shaking his head. "The letter explains plainly what they know and intend to do. I'll see to recalling the Blades at once."

Jauffre nodded.

My head spun, wondering why everybody was so worried about the Mythic Dawn finding out where Martin was. It had been inevitable that they would, and Jauffre had insisted that Cloud Ruler Temple would be safe for him, even when they did find out.

Was it no longer safe?

"There's something else," I turned to look between Jauffre and the Captain, willing a proper explanation from either of them.

The Captain glanced at me uncertainly. I was a little taken aback by his look, absurdly wondering if the letter, and the spies plans, somehow involved me.

Martin spoke then, as the hand holding the letter fell back over my shoulder. I took the letter from him and started reading it.

"They're planning an attack," he spoke dryly. "They're trying to open a Great Gate, just outside of Bruma."

I gasped as I read the same for myself.

_We have learned that the Septim heir has gone to ground at Cloud Ruler Temple, the lair of the accursed Blades. The Master has made its destruction the top priority of the Order, and Lord Dagon has committed whatever resources are required._

Vaguely, I was aware of the Captain's departure, and heard Jauffre say something to Martin about lesser gates. I focussed on the letter, the weight of its orders settling on my shoulders, and making me feel heavy.

_Once the Great Gate is opened, the fall of Bruma is assured. Cloud Ruler Temple cannot stand long after that, and the Septim will be caught like a rat in a trap._

"Can the Imperial legion not be deployed to Bruma, to help the guard defend..?" Martin was replying to something Jauffre had said.

I heard him as though through a haze, as I read the last section of the spies orders.

_The Master is pleased with the discovery of Sarina Passero's whereabouts. Her retrieval will be a trifle once Cloud Ruler Temple has been cleansed._

_The Dawn is breaking,_

_Ruma Camoran._

A vision of the cruel Altmer woman who had wrenched me up by the hair and ordered the other cultists to prepare me for the ritual rose in my mind, and I shuddered.

I placed the letter on Jauffre's desk, casting my eyes around the room in case the corners of it had any answers for me. _Why_ , I wondered? Why did they want _me_ at all? The closing of Oblivion gates was taking place all over Tamriel now, and would not cease without me.

"We must work faster," Jauffre's words brought me out of my musings and back to the discussion at hand. "I did not anticipate that the Mythic Dawn would learn of your location so swiftly, or respond in such a way. I am sorry, Sire," he added.

Martin moved around my chair, and took the seat that had previously been occupied by Captain Steffan, shaking his head. "There is nothing to apologise for, Jauffre. We must look forward, at what we can do about this new information," he cast me a sideways glance. "People are in danger." His expression was one of determined efficiency, but his eyes betrayed distress. "Bruma must be evacuated."

I pushed the final portion of the letter from my mind. Truly, there were more important matters than the final, tiny threat; an afterthought. As long as we succeeded in finding a way to pursue Mankar Camoran, it would never come to pass.

I nodded, agreeing with Martin. "Countess Carvain must be told at once. It will be her decision to evacuate, but as Emperor, you can persuade her to do so."

"Martin cannot leave Cloud Ruler Temple," Jauffre pressed sternly. "And, I fear that an evacuation of Bruma would only cause the Mythic Dawn to advance their plans. Our remaining time lessens the sooner we respond openly to their efforts."

Martin looked perplexed. "The Mythic Dawn don't care if there are people in Bruma or not; they only use it because of its proximity to us. How would it make any difference if the town is evacuated?"

"We do not know the full of their intentions," Jauffre held his hands out, palms up, in a manner that seemed more frustrated than placating. "All we know is what is in those orders," he flicked a glance at the letter. "And there is little enough at that, to make an educated counter-move with. No, Sire," he shook his head. " _Your_ focus," he emphasised, "must be on the bigger picture."

"Which is?" Martin asked tightly.

"The _Xarxes_ ," Jauffre sighed. He looked between us. "Are you any closer to discovering the items required to open the portal which will allow us to follow Mankar Camoran?"

I nodded a little, and explained how we were attempting to guide the book to speak the very secrets we required. Jauffre looked concerned by this, but let me finish.

"I am certain we would be able to complete the translations more quickly if a daedric expert, such as Tar-Meena, could be consulted-" I had to try again.

Jauffre shook his head. "That is out of the question, particularly now. Captain Steffan will be tightening security as we speak, and we cannot have the Mage's Guild clawing their way into this."

"Tar-Meena is one mage," I insisted, frustration rising in me like a fire. Jauffre insisted on trusting nobody but his own Blades, as though the other factions of Cyrodiil would betray us. "Whom without, we would never have discovered the Mythic Dawn's shrine at Lake Arrius."

But Jauffre wouldn't be swayed. Instead, without directly ordering either of us, he commanded that we double our efforts with the _Xarxes_ and forego our training sessions with Caroline, until we had discovered something that could be of use; essentially shaming us into working harder, I felt.

Martin and I left Jauffre's office not long after his weighty suggestion. An embarrassment at our lack of progress tugged at me, making me feel hot and bothered. The knowledge that the Mythic Dawn seemed to be hunting me, for reasons unknown, weighed little at that moment, next to the reality that Martin and I hadn't discovered anything in the _Mysterium Xarxes_ that would bring us any closer to tracking down the Amulet of Kings.

"I suppose we had better go back to the library," I murmured.

Martin huffed. "Jauffre is as lost as we are, Sarina," he told me. "He blames himself for our lack of progress, since it was he who insisted we spend no more than a few hours on the book each day."

Of course, Martin would see reason in Jauffre's manner and forgive it, while managing not to take his behaviour personally. I reminded myself that he had known Jauffre for his whole life. What he said made sense, but I still didn't appreciate the way Jauffre had made me feel like we had been doing nothing, because we had uncovered nothing that we could use, yet. Martin and I had been plunging ourselves into the vile book each day, devising methods and codecs and risking our sanity to find what we needed. It was not as simple as translating words; the _Xarxes_ was not a normal book.

I held my head high and tried to brush the offended feeling away. Whether Jauffre had intended to goad me or not; it didn't matter. The fact remained that Martin and I had to hurry up and find something, before it was too late for Bruma, or anyone else.

Martin took my hand as we descended the stairs and walked along the hallway that lead to the main hall.

The hall was warm, and bustling, full of Blades in plain clothes taking their dinners. Martin and I paused, hand-in-hand at the front of the hall, and observed them for a moment; the enormous fireplace behind us warming our backs. Many were gathered in lively discussions, and I spotted Caroline in the mix, animatedly explaining something to a group of her peers.

"I never could have imagined any of this," I said quietly, no longer feeling offended, but merely melancholy. "So strange, this path that our lives have taken."

Martin squeezed my hand. "If it had not, we would never have met."

I smiled, but it was a bittersweet smile.

We retreated to the library.

With the spies orders motivating us, Martin and I worked hard at our newest translation, long into the night. This called for several more readings direct from the _Xarxes_ , to fix passages in our notes that made no sense, no matter how we tried to interpret them.

At one point my gaze shifted to the large window in the library, and expecting to see the black of night beyond, I was startled to notice the grey of impending dawn instead.

"Martin," I reached out blearily, resting my hand on his arm. He was leaning over our notes, scribbling something furiously.

I said his name again, and squeezed his arm a little, and he did look up this time. There were dark circles under his eyes.

"We have to stop," I nodded to the window, as though it explained everything.

Martin sat back with his eyes on the window, noticing the pre-dawn light much in the same way I had; with a vague disbelief. But the expression was gone, so quickly I wondered if I had imagined it, as Martin shook his head and set his mouth into a determined frown.

"We can't stop," he muttered. "We have to finish this. We're running out of time," he glanced at me. "You should get some sleep. I can carry on a while longer."

I shook my head as my hand fell from his arm, and I took up his notes. I wasn't leaving him to do this alone. "How did you go with this section?"

Martin sighed, reaching up to rub his eyes with his palms, then dragged them through his hair as he exhaled. "I don't know," he admitted.

I passed Martin my notes, and I scanned his most recent translation as I did. "Can you check mine?"

He made a sound of ascent and took my papers.

Martin's notes read:

_Create [table?] with the four keys of Paradise (instructions to create the porthole – table? Alter? A sacrifice?)._

_The storm had my first [wing?] in the [calculation] well kind. (well kind = Welkynd? ie power of the Ayleid)_

_Per second, [it suffers] from the [stamp?] (stamp = seal, brand, badge)._

_Third, the [crater?] of Anu – Godsblood (eg blood of the Aedra, eg Amulet)._

_Finally, the [essence/elixir?] of pado may son (Padomay - essence of Padhome (Commentaries) – blood of a Daedric prince)._

"Martin...this is - you're nearly there," my eyes widened as I read. Martin had made _much_ better progress than I had. I had not translated 'well kind' in the first item's line, so hadn't made the Welkynd connection, and my fourth key was a mess of incomprehensible speculation about who I had assumed was Mankar Camoran's son, not Padomay.

"It's not good enough," Martin was still reading over my notes, then pointed to something in my translation. "Look, you have 'stone', where I have 'stamp'. I think we'll have to ask the _Xarxes_ for that section again," he mused. "But otherwise," he sighed, placing my notes on the table. He sounded tired. "I believe there's enough between us to get Jauffre involved in the search. These items, these 'keys', required for the ritual..." he shook his head, trailing off.

I bit my bottom lip, as I let Martin's notes fall back onto the table. The _Xarxes_ was between us, its back cover facing us. Martin had put it down that way after his last reading, saying grumpily that he was sick of the eye on the front cover mocking him.

"A Welkynd stone," I mused.

"A Great Welkynd stone," Martin corrected, pointing to my notes. "You have 'total', in that line, which could be 'great'. I have that garbled 'calculation' misinterpretation," he waved his hand dismissively at his notes.

I shook my head. "A Great Welkynd stone," I didn't want to argue with him about how much more impressive his translation was than mine. "The blood of an Aedra, and the blood of a Daedric Prince," I continued. "None of these will be easy to locate. It might have taken the Mythic Dawn _years_ to collect what it needed."

Martin pushed his chair back, and rose. "This was never going to be easy," he held his hand out to me.

And then there was still the unknown second key, seal, stone - whatever it was. I forced my concern about the tasks ahead aside, and wished I could do the same with my weariness, as I took Martin's hand, and we made our way to Jauffre's room.

–

Jauffre had been asleep in his office, which appeared to double as the Grandmaster's bedroom. Martin and I had explained to Jauffre what we'd come up with as succinctly as we could, after a day and night of no sleep.

Ever the man of action, Jauffre had called for food to be brought for the three of us, and for Captain Steffan to be summoned immediately.

I gratefully accepted a cup of steaming tea as Captain Steffan arrived. It was the first time I had seen him in plainclothes, and his hair was messed up; he must have also been sleeping. But his eyes were not so weary; they were sharp, alert, and ready for orders.

"Your majesty – my Lady," the Captain bowed quickly. "You have a translation?" he asked hurriedly.

I nodded over the top of my tea cup, and Martin replied that we did, as Jauffre took control of the conversation. I dimly wondered why he didn't ask the Captain to sit.

"Yes, Captain. Three out of the four items needed to perform the ritual to open the portal and chase Mankar Camoran into his 'Paradise' have been determined," Jauffre nodded to Martin and I, "with enough accuracy to send Blades out to retrieve them," he relayed.

"And they are?"

Jauffre told him, and I watched the Captain closely.

He looked confused, but stood rigidly to attention, and let Jauffre finish. I had little doubt that he was wondering what hope we had of locating such specific, mythical items.

"We will need to select who is sent to retrieve each item _very_ carefully," Jauffre said. "After what has been learned from the spies you silenced in Bruma, the Mythic Dawn will be looking out for any lone Blades asking odd questions about important artefacts."

Captain Steffan nodded. "I agree. I shall assemble some candidates for you."

"Do so swiftly, Captain, and return immediately to me with them. We cannot lose any more time," Jauffre commanded.

With another nod, the Captain left us.

Jauffre's eyes settled on Martin. "Now, Sire," he started carefully. "I order you to bed."

Martin nodded, though didn't look happy about it.

I was ready to collapse, but asked the question when he didn't; "What about the second key?"

"It can wait a single day," Jauffre insisted. "Nobody should approach the _Mysterium Xarxes_ with a weary mind."

"It's how they take hold of you," Martin added quietly, his expression wry. "The Daedric Princes," he confirmed, for my sake. "They capture you when you are at your most vulnerable," he stood, rubbing his eyes with his palms again.

"Exactly," Jauffre gave us both a hard look, still seated behind his desk. "Sleep for as long as you need," he reached for some papers, and a quill, about to start work for the day, I supposed. "I will make it known that you are not to be disturbed."

Martin and I left Jauffre's office, and I tried not to drag my feet along the hallway. Now that the wheels were in motion, and our task nearly completed, an incredible weariness had settled on my shoulders, weighing me down, that I thought had little to do with my physical exhaustion.

We walked toward our bedrooms in silence, and I cast a glance at Martin; he looked haggard.

When we reached the door to my room, before he could say good night, I lay a comforting hand on his arm. "We did well today," I said, encouragingly. "I mean, last night," I rethought.

Martin finally smiled, but it was sad too, somehow, and I was certain his mind was somewhere else. "It will be a good day when we no longer need to cast our minds into the _Xarxes_ ," he idly brushed his hand down my arm.

My heart ached, and I was reminded suddenly that our days together may have been dwindling, for all our promises to each other that we would stand together, once this was over. I leaned up, and pressed a small kiss to the corner of Martin's mouth, my boldness diminished by my tiredness.

There was such a comfort in being close to him that I lingered, and felt Martin wrap his arms around me with a sigh. I looked up to him, and he smiled, nudging my nose with his.

"Perhaps soon," he whispered, "we can simply be Martin and Sarina, for a time," his breath was warm, and I managed a small smile in return.

"Perhaps," I echoed, though couldn't hide my sadness, as I wondered if such a time _would_ ever come, and what we would make of it. After we had worked out what the second key was, we would need to open the portal, and after that? Assuming the Amulet was retrieved, we would make for the Imperial City. Tamriel would be safe again, but the work would be far from done.

Martin's eyes conveyed a shadow of uncertainty, and I wished I could know what he was thinking. I drew myself closer to him, wrapping my arms around him and settling my head on his chest.

"But for now," I sighed, "we must rest."

I felt Martin's echoing sigh, and drew back from our embrace.

"Sleep well," I told him, reaching for the door handle.

Martin swallowed and cast his eyes down the hallway, toward his own room, then nodded. "You too."


	22. In Pursuit of Allies

_I feel the flames of an Oblivion gate lick and tug at me._

_With a rush of heat, I stand before the vista of black and red._

" _You will never find it," a dark voice rasps in a language both foreign and familiar to me._

_I run toward the tallest tower, in the distance, alighting rocks between pools of bubbling molten stone._

_"You are no Champion," the voice mocks me._

_I ignore it, feeling more frustrated than afraid at its attempt to distract me._

" _Your time is up," the voice comes again, a cruel humour in its tone as it whispers deep within my soul._

_Hundreds of wisps of flame surge around me, encircling me in light, and lift me up, up, up, on a draught of hot air. I fight to break free, but there is nothing to fight against._

_I scream as I burn._

Waking from the dream of Oblivion, I inhaled a great breath of cool mountain air, sitting up shakily to drink some water. My stomach and eyes ached and I drank as though the water could quench the fires of the dream.

It was day time still; the sun was shining through the high window in my room, and the sky was a crisp blue, though I had no sense of how long I had been asleep for. I blinked at the small patch of sky that I could see, then relaxed back onto my pillow as the dream faded and my heart beat steadied. I felt hollow, and somewhat detached from myself.

Were these dreams of Oblivion warnings, I wondered? Or were they simply wild imaginings spawned by an overactive mind and current events?

 _Does it matter?_ I asked myself honestly.

Before I could answer my own question, the door opened. Caroline strode into the room, and moved toward the wardrobe. She paused when she noticed that I was awake.

"Good, at least I don't have to wake you," she smiled widely.

"Caroline," I greeted her as I eased myself back up to a sitting position. I had hoped to get some more sleep, but if she was here, it was time to rise. "What is it?"

"The Grandmaster asked if you could visit him," Caroline went through the contents of my wardrobe, extracting thick stockings, a simple, sleeveless, dark brown dress and a fitted green undershirt.

Caroline hesitated, when I didn't get up straight away. "He...seemed sorry to have to ask for you," she added.

I shook my head, at myself mostly, and rose. "Sorry. We were up until early this morning, translating," I explained.

Caroline shook her head, handing me the clothes. "You mean yesterday, my Lady. It is morning again."

I stared at Caroline as my brain took in and caught up to what she said. I'd slept a whole day and night?

"But..." I started, unsure of what to say next. How? I felt like I had only slept for perhaps a few hours. The hollow lethargy within me persisted, and considering how long I had been asleep, I wondered if it was caused by something as base as hunger. I had assumed it to be a product of the Oblivion dream, but perhaps I _was_ reading too much into them.

Caroline looked at me critically. "Are you unwell?"

I knew that tone. I stared at my former bodyguard, knowing that what usually followed _that_ tone was a command to go back to bed, and a visit from the Tower alchemist with some foul concoction. I reminded myself sternly that I was no longer that child who needed taking care of in the Imperial City.

I shook my head and mustered a wry smile. "I am sorry. I had a strange dream, and my mind was elsewhere," I covered. I placed the clothes Caroline had handed me on the bed, and slipped out of my night dress.

Had Martin slept as long as I?

Caroline helped with the cord ties at the back of the dress, and once that was done, I fended off her attempts to do my hair, pleading haste.

"I have kept Jauffre waiting long enough," I told her, with another smile. "And surely _you_ have more important matters to attend to than hair, these days."

Caroline's mouth formed a straight line, then without a word she turned and hauled me to a seat in front of the dresser.

"Caroline-!" I exclaimed in protest.

"My Lady," she cut me off, her voice steady, but firm. "I am uncertain why you feel that our change in location has changed everything. My service to you is part of my sworn duty," she reminded me. "With the exception of the days where my services are reassigned," she twisted the top half of my hair into a high, loose bun, but left the lower half free-flowing, "I will be here when you wake, and I will assist you as I have done since you were ten years old."

I flushed. She may believe that she served me, but _that_ had sounded like a reprimand.

She finished with my hair quickly, then stood back to assess her handiwork. "There. That will do. Now, straight to the Grandmaster," her reflection in the mirror all but ordered me.

Nodding and spurred on by her tone, I rose. "I'm sorry," I flickered her an uncertain glance. "Caroline, I _am_ grateful-"

"Not now," Caroline ordered me in a calmer voice, then pointed to the door. "Please, my Lady, go. It seemed important."

I doubted that there was a summons to Jauffre that wasn't important, but hastened to his office nevertheless. Caroline's words swam in my mind and made me wonder if she needed our morning routine more than I did now, which struck an odd chord in me; one that had me torn between being weepy and grateful, and embarrassed. I was her job, not her _daughter_.

I was still pondering Caroline's loyalty when I knocked on Jauffre's door. I heard his voice from within, calling for me to enter, and turned the handle.

The Grandmaster of the Blades was sitting at his desk, with a fresh tray of food shoved onto one side, nearly completely lost in a pile of hand-written notes and haphazardly-stacked books. Jauffre was penning a note when I entered, and his quill stilled, poised above the notepaper as he regarded me.

"Good morning, Lady Passero," Jauffre placed his quill in an inkwell, and motioned for me to come forward and take one of the seats in front of his desk. "You are well rested," he added; a statement, not a question.

I nodded anyway. "Yes, though I am sorry for sleeping for so long," I took a seat and smoothed my hands into my lap once I was settled.

"Don't trouble yourself with that," he dismissed, indicating the tray of food. "I expect you're hungry? Help yourself."

"Thank you."

Without any further ceremony I reached forward and took one of the bowls of porridge from the tray. It had been sprinkled with blackberry jam and dried fruit, and I ate a spoonful of it with relish. It was a little cold, but I was hungry as soon as I'd taken the first mouthful, and continued eating for a while.

About half way through the bowl, I noticed that there was silence between us, and I looked up, to see that Jauffre was watching me, almost critically. I paused, wondering why I was on show. Remembering that early morning meetings with the Grandmaster was usually a thing that Martin did, I suddenly wondered where he was, and why I had been called to see Jauffre instead.

"Is something the matter?" I asked, as a feeling of dread washed over me.

Jauffre's look of calculation disappeared, and he smiled swiftly - too swiftly. "Nothing is wrong," he assured me in a steady tone.

"Where's Martin?" I asked quickly, unconvinced.

Jauffre looked confused. "He was in his bed, last I was told."

I glanced around the room, exhaling. "I am sorry, Jauffre," I took up another spoonful of breakfast. "Please, tell me in your own time why I am here."

I knew that my wording would encourage him to stop watching me eat, and start explaining why he had summoned me.

"Well, Lady Passero," Jauffre cleared his throat. "There is something I would ask you to do, to assist Martin's cause," he began. "Something of greater importance than the _Xarxes_ , now that your translation is near its completion."

My mind raced and heart thumped in my chest at the thought of Jauffre pushing me from one quest straight into another, without rest. The memory of being held by Martin; his gentle nuzzling, confessing that he was looking forward to spending some quiet, private time with me once we'd finished the translation fluttered through my thoughts and dispersed, like fish scattering in a pond as it rippled.

I nodded for Jauffre to continue, somewhat dismayed. I had been doubtful such a time would come for us, hadn't I? But of course, I had to remember where we were, and what we were fighting to achieve. It was selfish of me to wish idleness from the safety of Cloud Ruler Temple while others fought for their - and our - lives, outside of it.

"As you will remember," he spoke with more confidence, "the Mythic Dawn's immediate plans include the opening of a Great Oblivion gate, outside of Bruma, with the intention of using the Gate to mount an attack on this fortress and trap the Emperor."

"Yes," I confirmed hurriedly. How could I forget the note to the spies that the Blades had unearthed?

"Good," Jauffre nodded. "And given your first-hand experience with the impact of a Great gate," he held his hand out to me, "you will agree that we must do everything in our power to ensure that the gate is not opened."

"Jauffre," I said briskly, growing more wary by the moment. "Speak plainly, please."

Jauffre sighed. "Very well," he gave me a hardened look. "While we cannot have her evacuate Bruma at this time, the Countess of Bruma must be petitioned to commit all resources within reach to closing each lesser gate as it opens."

I shook my head. "I explained our needs to the Elder Council, and Countess Carvain was among them," I remembered seeing the pretty brunette in the chambers the day I addressed the Council. "She knows what to do, and what is at stake," I added.

Jauffre looked frustrated at being interrupted. "She cannot possibly understand the gravity of the situation about to erupt on her doorstep," he said harshly. "And there are no where near enough Bruma guards to slow, let alone stop, a daedric attack of the magnitude the Dawn intends to unleash. No," he added with a shake of his head, "I fear Bruma will be overrun before the Countess can request a defence be prepared."

I felt my shoulders slump a little, then forced myself to sit upright, remembering somewhere in the back of my mind, from a previous life almost, my training. _Sit straight, hands in lap, head raised, politeness, courtesy..._

"What would you have me do?" I replied formally, wondering if he was suggesting _I_ go to Bruma, despite the spies orders including confirmation that the Mythic Dawn seemed to want to drag me out of Cloud Ruler Temple, too.

Jauffre's eyes softened a little. "You know the Countess, Sarina," he appealed, forgetting my title, but I barely noticed as I focussed on him. "You have a better chance than I, or any of my Blades do, of expressing the greatness of our need, and of being listened to."

"And our need is?" I kept my voice steady. He _was_ suggesting that I go to Bruma.

"Soldiers," he said, finally. "I shall spare what Blades I can, but she must understand that our duty at Cloud Ruler Temple is to form the final defence and protect the Emperor," he held his hands out in entreaty. "You must convince her that she request the aid of the other houses of Cyrodiil."

My brows crossed at this odd request. "Why not write to the High Chancellor and request the Imperial Legion? If Ocato were notified, you know he would commit the City's resources."

I trailed off as Jauffre shook his head.

"As I have said previously," he began. "We have been too open, too noisy in our plans, and the Mythic Dawn has taken advantage of this. If the Mythic Dawn discover that we are attempting to assemble a force to counter their plans for Bruma-"

"They'll expedite the attack?" I asked him, remembering.

Jauffre nodded, his face grim.

The request still didn't make sense. "Won't they discover it anyway, if the Countess starts asking the other Houses for assistance?"

"Not necessarily," Jauffre gave me a shrewd look. "The Dawn's eyes and ears are trained on us, on this fortress. Their focus will not be on the actions of the young Countess," he mused. "Not at first."

"If I make the journey to Bruma," I said quickly, "they will see me leave, if they are watching us for signs of movement," I tried another tact. I could see why Jauffre wanted to muster as many fighters as he could to Bruma, but I still didn't understand why I had to be involved. "You know that they are seeking me," I added. My voice had wavered a little, and I tried to force the fear of the unknown back.

Jauffre hesitated, and with a renewed feeling of dread rising in me, I wondered if this was the reason he wanted me to do this. Was he using me as bait, to make the Mythic Dawn in the region reveal themselves?

I placed the half-eaten bowl of porridge back on Jauffre's desk, no longer feeling hungry, as the Grandmaster pushed on.

"You will be disguised," he told me earnestly. "And defended."

"By whom?" I fired, feeling cold. If he was using me, he would never admit to it, but I reminded myself that there was always more to Jauffre's 'orders' than met the eye.

"Caroline, or Baurus," he waved his hand dismissively. "Somebody you know, and trust."

I didn't respond, staring at the Grandmaster, trying to determine exactly what he was leaving unsaid.

For the first time since I had entered the room, he looked uncomfortable. "My Lady, I understand your hesitance, but I would not ask this of you if our need was not so great," he explained, in a somewhat strained voice, as though it was taking all of his willpower to not be frustrated by my response. "You told me, not long ago, in this very room, that you would do anything in your power to keep Martin safe," he reminded me.

I nodded, frowning. "I remember."

"All I ask of you," Jauffre continued quickly, "is that you travel the short distance to Bruma and talk to the Countess. She will listen to you. Impress upon her the need to assemble a force out of sight of the Mythic Dawn's watchful eyes, before we lose what little time we have," he leaned forward. "Protect your Emperor."

The way he formed his argument told me plainly that I _was_ being used again, but I hated to admit that could see Jauffre's logic when it came to the Countess of Bruma. Countess Narina Carvain was not like other Countesses; she was more thoughtful, more scholarly, and more analytical than her peers. Sending a Blade to convince her to ask Cyrodiil for aid wouldn't work as swiftly as sending me would, particularly after my address to the Council. The only other person who might have been able to convince the Countess as quickly as I was Martin, but there was no way he could leave Cloud Ruler Temple yet.

I stilled, realising that I had no choice in the matter, if we were going to respond in time to meet the threat of the Great Oblivion gate. It had to be me.

"Martin won't ever agree to this," I told Jauffre, remembering how he had reacted at Weynon Priory when Jauffre had said I was to leave with Baurus.

From the look that formed on his face, I knew that Jauffre had already considered that Martin would forbid the journey.

He sounded resigned when he next spoke. "That is why _you_ must convince him this is the best course of action."

I groaned, inwardly cursing Jauffre. This was a terrible plan. _I_ didn't even believe it was a good course of action, despite acknowledging that something had to be done.

My meeting with Jauffre was over soon after, and he requested that I be ready to leave within the hour, as he didn't want to waste any more time idling, as he called it. He said he would ensure everything was ready, and would speak to Captain Steffan about which of the Blades would accompany me to Bruma.

A haze of dread descended upon me as I left his office, and went to find Martin. Assuming that he would be awake by now, I headed straight for the library.

By the time I had crossed the main hall, I had barely determined how to begin the conversation I had to have with him, let alone how to convince Martin that I was leaving Cloud Ruler Temple in an hour's time. I couldn't quite believe it myself.

The task itself was not all that difficult or risky, I repeated, as I walked, and that was what I would try to impress on him. But I knew that he would not want me to ride out from the safety of Cloud Ruler Temple, disguised or not, particularly with the spies orders fresh in our minds.

I hesitantly opened the door to the library, then chastised myself for wasting time and stepped in, closing it quietly, but hurriedly, behind me.

But he wasn't there. I glanced around the room, my eyes settling on the table we usually worked at. It was piled high with books and note papers and on top of it all, the _Mysterium Xarxes_.

I frowned as I turned to leave, realising that Martin would have to continue the translation alone while I was away, and I was surprised that _this_ was the thought that brought tears to my eyes. Who would write for him, as he read from the book? Who would close the _Xarxes_ and make him stop reading, to help him fight the book's compulsion? Who would care about whether he took breaks for meals?

 _He is a grown man_ , my mother's snide voice spat at me.

I countered the voice, arguing reasonably that it was not wrong of me to care for his well being and sanity. If he was lost, be it to the Dawn's machinations, or the book's coercion, _all_ was lost. Assuring myself that he would be well, for a few days, I reasoned that Jauffre would not have asked me to leave unless the risk of the Great gate outside of Bruma posed more of a threat to Martin than the _Xarxes_ did.

I crossed the main hall again, searching for him, but he wasn't to be found amongst the Blades taking late breakfasts.

That only left his bedroom, I supposed. I hastened to Martin's room, and while I'd never been in it before, I knew where it was; next to my own. I hated the thought of waking him, and wondered if he had woken or had slept through the entire day and night, as I had.

Rallying my courage again, because I didn't have time to be wary about entering the Emperor's private chambers if I wanted to say farewell, I knocked quietly.

No response came from within, and I frowned.

"Martin?" I asked, turning the handle and stepping into the doorway.

He _was_ still in bed. He was sleeping on his side, with his face cast in shadow.

I closed the door with a quiet ' _click_ ' and padded across the floorboards, my eyes roving the room. Martin's room was quite large, but sparsely furnished, and had a disused, un-lived in feel to it. It was the opposite to Jauffre's room full of disorganised clutter. The surfaces were clean, with the occasional book or folded note laying on it. The only adornments were in-built; scrolling panels of intertwined dark and light woods; a chandelier above the bed; paintings, set into the wall of scenes from the Imperial City. Somebody had tried to make the room more personal, but it hadn't been Martin, that much was clear.

Martin's face was peaceful, and he looked younger for it, particularly with his hair loose and his hand resting on the pillow. I wasn't sure how to wake him without startling him, and simply stood at the side of his bed, taking in the sight of him. While I was driven by Jauffre's request, and a possibility I was trying to ignore - that this might, somehow, be goodbye - I wondered if it might be better to leave him sleep and write a letter, explaining where I was going, and why.

 _No_ , I dismissed the idea immediately. I imagined him reading such a letter and storming into Jauffre's office, making the Grandmaster explain himself instead of forcing me to do it. It would serve Jauffre right, but I had to be braver than that.

 _Coward_ , I told myself, knowing that Martin would never forgive me if I took the letter option, no matter my reasons behind it.

I sat on the side of his bed, sighing and reaching over him, brushing his hair back from his forehead and whispering his name. He had begun to stir as soon as I had sat, so I knew it would not be long before he woke.

I let my fingertips linger on his brow, before moving my hand to his shoulder, as his eyes fluttered open.

"Good morning," I spoke softly, as he turned onto his back. I made myself smile, as his gaze transitioned from bleary, to focussed as he recognised me.

"Sarina," he sounded a little hoarse, and looked confused, as he made to sit up. "What's wrong?"

I stood, too quickly, and hid a curse that he had seen through my weak smile by busying myself at his dresser, pouring him a cup of water.

"Nothing is wrong," I told him, realising after I'd said it that Jauffre had said the same to me earlier, before explaining the task ahead. Perhaps all such conversations had to begin with words of fortitude, regardless of truth or feelings on the matter. I turned back and handed him the cup, meeting his gaze with what I hoped was a confident look. He was watching me closely as he wordlessly took it, then shook his head, a sombre expression suddenly in place, before he drank.

I faltered; I had expected more confusion, and he no longer seemed confused. He looked resigned, almost, but resigned to what, I wondered?

"Yes, there is," his voice sounded less gravelly now. The weight behind his words made me inhale a sharp breath.

"You're leaving again," he stated simply.

The pretty words and explanations and counter-arguments I had readied to say to him died in my throat as he waited for confirmation of what he already seemed to know.

All I could do was nod.

Martin sighed, putting the empty cup down, and pushed his hair back. "Where is Jauffre sending you now?" he asked in a flat voice.

I had to know, and shook my head, dismissing his question. "How did you know?" I asked, hating how my voice shook. Foresight was one thing, but his pronouncement had rattled me.

Martin looked up to me, remaining in his bed, the sheet and blanket pooled around his waist. Perhaps he was still waking up, I thought. Perhaps he didn't realise what he had said. While that resignation was still there, his eyes had grown sadder.

"It's written all over you," he said dismissively, then held his hand out to me.

 _It was_ , I wondered? I stared at his offered hand, then took it carefully.

He directed me to sit down next to him again, as I had been when I had woken him a moment earlier, then let go of my hand and wrapped his arms around me. "Will you tell me what he's asked you to do?" he requested again.

Martin's reaction had entirely thrown me off course. I noticed that I was sitting quite rigidly, and told myself to relax into his arms. I leaned toward him, resting my ear on his chest. His heart beat steadily, surely, the sound calming me. Then I remembered that I had less than an hour to prepare for the journey to Bruma. And even less time, now, to say goodbye.

 _This isn't goodbye_ , I insisted to myself in a rush.

I told him about Jauffre's request; that I take the short journey to Bruma, and convince Countess Carvain to request aid from the other districts of Cyrodiil, to defend against the Oblivion gates about to be opened on her – and our - door step. I explained, as Jauffre had, why we couldn't ask for the aid ourselves, and about why I was the right person to make this request to the Countess. I told him that Jauffre had promised I would be disguised, and accompanied by a Blade.

Martin's arms had tightened around me while I had talked, clearly anxious, but I still found it was easy to tell him about what had to be done from the security of his arms.

"I leave in under an hour," I finished, turning in his arms, so I could see how he would react, and be able to reasonably diffuse the argument I could feel was on its way.

He withdrew a little, so he could meet my gaze. "Jauffre can send _anybody_ else to do that."

"Perhaps," I shrugged. "But Jauffre believes this needs to be done by me, and we have to trust his judgement," I said steadily. Belatedly, I wondered if Martin would also somehow read from me that I thought this might be a trap, with me as the bait. I levelled my expression, hoping that he would not, reminding myself that it never served anybody well to be so easily read.

Martin's brow crossed at my reasoning, and he shook his head. "Do I need to remind you that the last time you were accompanied anywhere by a single Blade, you were captured and nearly sacrificed to Mehrunes Dagon?" his eyes flashed. "Or about the letter that the Blades uncovered in Bruma? They're seeking _you_ , Sarina!" he implored, an edge of desperation in his tone. The sadness on his face had shifted into frustration, and there was a flicker of anguish beneath it.

"Of course I remember," I replied evenly. "Do you remember what else was uncovered in the letter?" I countered.

He closed his eyes, but didn't answer me directly. "I don't want to argue with you."

I waited for more, realising that this was another reason Jauffre had wanted me to talk to him. Jauffre, he could yell at, but me? Apparently not.

After a pause, he replied. "There is no dissuading you from this madness?"

I reached up, touching his jaw, and as I turned him to look at me again he opened his eyes. I wasn't prepared for the searching, longing look on his face.

"Nothing we do is easy," I reminded him of the words he had said, last time we'd been in the library decoding the _Xarxes_. "But I have made a promise that I will do whatever is necessary to keep you safe."

I wished the waver from my voice away, and noticed that Martin was also shaking a little.

"Don't go," he whispered fiercely; more a plea than a command.

Before I could respond, he leaned down and his lips crashed onto mine; hard and desperate. His hands grasped my waist, and my breath left me in a great gush of surprise. The ache I had felt changed, and blazed through me, as Martin shifted forward and deepened the hungry kiss. All I could do was hold onto the front of his night shirt to keep from falling on top of him, or back onto his bed, as thoughts of Bruma and the journey ahead were roughly shoved aside, to be replaced by a powerful, heady need to be simply man and woman, without the weight of our fates, or that of Tamriel, to separate us.

He pulled back, resting his forehead on mine and closing his eyes as he gasped for air. "Please, don't go," he whispered again, between breaths.

By way of answering, I tilted my head up and captured his lips, shocked by my bold response even as I did it, but I wasn't overthinking it; merely reacting. He responded immediately, his mouth moving with mine as he made a small, encouraging sound. One of his hands glided around my back, urging me up, and closer to him.

 _What are you doing_ , a logical voice in my head wailed. I had to get ready to go to Bruma!

I wanted to shove the reminder roughly away, but it wouldn't leave, demanding my attention. My hold on Martin's night shirt tightened, as I retreated and stared up at him, wide-eyed, searching for reason, and answers.

The look he gave me in return made me want to damn Jauffre's orders and stay. His warmth encircled me, and his arms held me firmly to him.

What _was_ I doing, I asked myself again? What had made me kiss him back so fiercely, and without thinking? _Was_ I saying goodbye, in case this was the last time I would see him?

 _Stop it_ , I told myself, my mother's tone back in full force. _You aren't walking out into battle, you silly child,_ she continued. _You are travelling a very short distance, and having tea with a Countess. What you do now is nothing, compared to what others are doing for Martin's cause._

Martin's plea echoed through me; _Please, don't go_ , as my mother's voice in my head gave me some perspective.

"It will be all right," I forced a smile, and pushed my palms gently against him, to ease back, as wrong as it felt to do so. His hold on me loosened as I shuffled back, to put some distance between us. I didn't know what I would do if he kissed me like that again, and I blushed, realising that a part of me wished that he would so I could find out. "I will be back before you begin to miss me," I added.

"Impossible," Martin shook his head, his eyes clouded with a devotion that made my blush double.

"Baurus or Caroline will be with me the entire time," I reminded him. "And the journey to Bruma is very short," I added. "The risk is worth it," I told him, because I had to believe it was.

At this, Martin huffed a frustrated not-laugh, as he reached for me, his fingers ghosting along my cheek. "What if I order you to stay?"

I had to leave, or I would never be able to, I told myself. Martin's hand fell away as I rose, smoothing my hands down the front of my dress to ease out the wrinkles.

"I must get ready," I told him quietly, not trusting myself any longer, as I made for the door. He wasn't going to order me to stay. I hesitated, as I looked back to him from the doorway, wishing he would say something. He was still sitting in his bed, staring after me with that staunch expression.

"I promise I'll return," I told him, remembering how I had said much the same to him in the forest, the last time we hard parted. It felt like that had happened years ago.

Martin nodded from the bed, swallowing thickly, and his voice was gravelly again when he replied; "I will pray for you."

–

True to his word, Jauffre had prepared everything within the hour.

After briefly calming myself in my room, washing my face and stowing the Passero seal in the bedside table so that it could not be used to identify me on the road, I returned to Jauffre's office, realising that I had nothing to pack. I was relieved to see Caroline standing by his desk, waiting for me. Not that I would have minded Baurus accompanying me either, but I had worried that neither would be available, and I would be stuck with a Blade I barely knew.

Jauffre handed me some travelling clothes and boots, explaining that we were to be disguised as Nord sisters, travelling through Bruma on our way to the Imperial City to petition for some farm land that our cousin had inherited, or something. I knew that I should listen more closely to Jauffre's hard-worked back-story, but I was finding it difficult to focus, particularly since I doubted any Mythic Dawn agents we encountered on the road would ask questions.

Caroline was already dressed in the rough, warm clothing that Nords favoured, with an air of casual confidence about her, as though she had already mentally prepared herself for the role, and task, ahead. The Breton didn't look at all like a Nord, though, so I knew that an Alteration spell was likely to come, to complete her disguise.

I threw the loose clothing Jauffre had handed me over the top of what I was wearing; my clothes were common enough that it would work. The green shawl and mustard-coloured scarf fell around me in waves like a tent and I looked up at the Grandmaster expectantly, not trusting my voice.

Seemingly satisfied, Jauffre turned to Caroline. He hurriedly charged a spell and waved his hand in front of her face, then turned to me and did the same. Before my eyes, Caroline's features shifted and lengthened, transforming her into a plain, extremely pale-skinned woman with brown eyes, full lips and long, ashy-blonde hair tied either side of her face in plaits.

Staring down at my hands, I was startled to see how plump they had become. I patted my body down, realising that my hands weren't the only part of me to gain weight.

Before I could inspect what else had changed as part of our disguise, Jauffre told us we should leave at once, circling Cloud Ruler to approach Bruma from the road leading out of Skyrim. The intention was that we would reach Bruma before the sun had set, take a room at the Jerall View Inn, and wait for the spell to wear off, so that I was myself again before I petitioned the Countess.

He handed a satchel to Caroline; "Some Septims, and credentials, should you have need of them."

She nodded shortly, then turned to me, holding out her hand. "Shall we go?" she asked, her voice carrying a hint of a Nord accent.

I covered my mouth, trying not to laugh at her attempt. "Caroline, your accent needs some work," I said quickly.

"Indeed," Jauffre agreed with me, giving Caroline an odd sort of look. "In fact, it is probably best that you do not speak at all," he added to both of us. Caroline frowned, which made me want to laugh again, and I recognised that it was nervousness that prompted my bubble of absurd laughter, not Caroline's accent.

With a few more hurried instructions, outlining the specific points I was to make to Countess Carvain, we were rushed out of the main building.

"Talos guide you," he bowed in farewell, handing me a potion. He handed Caroline an identical bottle.

I nodded farewell, picking up my skirt so I could descend the stairs. I was surrounded at once by Blades in plain, leather armour, who were to leave Cloud Ruler Temple the same time as us. This was in case the entry was being watched, and those watching wondered why the gate opened but nobody came or went. The Blades leaving with us were to retrieve fire wood.

As we neared the bottom of the stairs, Caroline indicated that we drink our potions of invisibility, which would be in effect long enough for us to retreat into the northern woods unseen.

I nodded in confirmation, casting my eyes back at the Temple, somewhat saddened that Martin hadn't come to see us off. I turned back around, reminding myself that we had already said farewell.

The knowledge that we might be found at any moment, now that we were on our way, along with Jauffre's suggestion that neither of us speak until necessary, rendered Caroline and I silent. I unstoppered the bottle and drank the bitter liquid. As I felt the fuzzy effects of the potion take hold of me, I reached out and took Caroline's hand in mine. It was the only way we would be able to stay together, while the potion was in effect.

The gate opened; the Blades exited, and Caroline and I ran north, hand-in-hand, and – I hoped – unseen.


	23. The Long Road to Bruma

Once Caroline and I had looped around Cloud Ruler Temple and joined the main road to Bruma, I felt lighter and refreshed. Cloud Ruler Temple may have been safe ground, but there was an air of oppression about it that I hadn't noticed while I'd been there, which leaving the grounds had cast off.

The late morning sunlight was weak, with no heat to it, but the air was clean and cool, and the sky was clear of clouds. Despite the ever-present worry that the Mythic Dawn might discover and take us prisoner at any moment, for long enough that our Alteration spells wore off, the lighter part of me reasoned that it would be unlikely for the same thing to happen to me twice. Last time, Baurus and I had been travelling as part of a noble entourage, and, in retrospect had been quite a good target for anyone, from bandits to lunatic cultists bent on domination and sacrifice. This time, we could hide a lot easier, if necessary, and the journey was much shorter.

With silence reigning between us as we focussed on putting our feet down securely on the ice-covered road, and our invisibility potions long since worn off, I caught sight of my reflection in a pool of frozen water by the road side. I noted that I looked a lot like Caroline's Nord guise, only younger, and plumper.

I suppressed a laugh, looking ahead once more, wondering when I might next be able to travel in Cyrodiil wearing my own face. I found that the thought didn't trouble me as much as it should have.

The road to Bruma wound down the mountains in ever-lengthening criss-crossing motions, and I peered through the trees after we had rounded a corner, wondering why we couldn't simply cut through the woods. There was ice and dirty, hard-packed snow around the base of the trees and rocks, but it was not so dense that we wouldn't have been able to manage it.

I was about to voice my question to Caroline, telling myself I'd have to call her 'sister' because we hadn't discussed what our aliases names were and I'd not seen the credentials Jauffre had supplied, but a flicker of red between the trees caught my attention. I hesitated, trying to catch a glimpse of it again, my mouth snapping shut.

Caroline had stopped when I had. Instead of asking me why, she followed my gaze, her unfamiliar Nord features adopting a very Caroline-like expression of determination as she searched. I noticed her hand twitch by her side, where the hilt of her katana would have usually rested.

"Red," I murmured, squinting in the direction that I thought I had seen it. Was it a red-robed Mythic Dawn agent? Or just a wild animal - perhaps a deer, or fox?

I watched, and goosebumps rose on my skin as I realised that the woods were completely, unnaturally silent. The elation I had felt at walking outdoors in the pleasant chill of the mountains fled, to be replaced by the all-too-familiar, itching fear of the unknown.

Caroline grasped my arm and started us walking again.

A coldness swept over me that had nothing to do with the mountain air. Surely, we weren't being hunted _already_ , were we?

"We must make haste, sister," Caroline told me quietly in the lilting tone of her attempted Nord accent.

I nodded and shifted my hand to the crook of her elbow, so it didn't look as though she was hauling me down the road beside her. I cast my eyes to the woods as we hurried along, wondering if I could have imagined the flicker of red? But then, I definitely wasn't imagining the persistent, engulfing silence.

Around the next bend in the road, I saw the slash of red through the trees again. I knew Caroline had seen it too this time, because she drew a sharp breath and I felt her arm tense where I held it. She didn't hesitate, however; if anything, the sight made her increase our pace a little.

"Sister, did you see the red deer?" I asked carefully, emulating the Nord accent - remembering Eyja's accent - as best as I could.

She nodded, her face once again unsuspecting. "It is a shame we didn't think to bring your bow," she muttered.

My heart plummeted. I realised suddenly that I was - quite ridiculously - unarmed. Why had I not insisted on bringing a bow with me? How had _Caroline_ not insisted upon it? We may not have been able to bring Caroline's katana with us, for it was the signature weapon of the Blades, but _anybody_ could carry a bow without looking suspicious.

There was nothing for it now, and I tried to push aside the dismay and keep my wits about me as we continued along the road. I caught a glimpse of the red again, through the pale trunks of the woods all around us. I had seen it better that time - it was edged in gold, but it didn't look like a body in a cloak; there was no solid form to it.

Curiosity warred with my fear, tempting me to ask Caroline if we could go closer. If Caroline wondered what it was, she didn't show it; her manner and muscles as rigid as they had been when she had first seen it. I reminded myself to follow her lead. The silence of the woods was complete, with the exception of our boots, which made soft crunching sounds as we hurried over the ice-and-dirt-packed road.

And then there _was_ sound. The cracking of twigs; the distant, but heavy crunch of boots on dirt. _People_. Quickly approaching people.

"Enough of this," Caroline muttered, in her own voice.

Her hand turned and she gripped my wrist, swiftly dragging me off the road and into the woods. She lay down flat behind a fallen tree and indicated that I should do the same.

I dropped onto my stomach, mimicking her. Icy-cold water immediately seeped through my clothes, but I didn't feel it. My rising fear had crashed onto me when Caroline had grabbed hold of my wrist, and it now left no room for me to feel anything else.

We watched, my heart hammering, and I dimly wondered what the Dawn would make of us, if it was them, and if they did find us; two Nord sisters, crouched behind a tree in the woods. It was going to look suspicious, no matter the faces we wore. But, I figured that Caroline wouldn't have acted if she hadn't determined that the risk of capture was high.

The flicker of red with the occasional gold was easier to see, now that we had stopped moving, though I still had no idea what it was. It was too far away, and appeared randomly. The very obvious footfalls making their way through the trees became louder, though. I told myself that we were well hidden, from anybody who wasn't looking for us, and cast a nervous glance at Caroline. She was still, but her eyes were roving the length of the road, and the woods beyond.

"Oh," she said in realisation, then stood.

Startled by her suddenness, I looked out to try and see what had made her relax. I could see movement, now, to accompany the noise. Figures, but they were moving too fast and were too well camouflaged for me to make out much more than that they weren't wearing the tell-tale red of the Dawn.

Caroline announced, without the Nord lilt in her tone again, "It is just the Bruma guard." She reached her hand down to me, and helped me to my feet. I grimaced at the wet grime covering the entire front of my clothes.

"What do you think they're doing up here?" I asked her, pointedly ensuring that I still spoke with an accent.

Caroline opened her mouth, but before she could answer, there was an unearthly roar that cut through the trees. The Bruma guard seemed to all shout at once in response; a battlecry.

With a lick of dread, I realised that I recognised the beastly scream that had set off the approaching Bruma guard; _Dremora_.

"There must be an Oblivion gate nearby," I realised what I should have realised sooner, paling.

Caroline turned back to me swiftly, grabbing my shoulders. "Listen to me," she said hurriedly, making me look at her.

I dragged my eyes away from the red and gold and sounds of metal and fighting and screaming, to stare into the eyes of the Nord woman with Caroline's voice. It was as though the world was moving in slow motion.

"We cannot continue along the road," she said hurriedly. "But we must continue on to Bruma."

"But, if there's a gate here-" I began protesting, but stopped when a scream of pain ripped through the air, over the sounds of battle.

Caroline made a frustrated sound and crouched down behind the dead tree again, and because she was still holding onto my shoulders, I crouched with her, shuddering. If the Dawn had started opening the lesser gates close to Bruma, they were already on their way to creating a Great Gate.

Letting go of me, Caroline flicked up the side of her skirt, and took two daggers from a leather holster on her leg.

"Sister," Caroline whispered urgently, turning one of the daggers in her hand, so its hilt faced me. I stared down it, and then back up to Caroline. She wanted me to take it?

"I am still no use at short range," I reminded her. She was my teacher; she knew it.

Caroline shook her head, urging me to take the blade again. "We're not fighting with them, we're running past them," she told me, standing up again and scanning the woods. "If we are seen - if you are approached," she was speaking very quickly, while her eyes searched, for our escape route I assumed, "you _run_ , climb a tree, anything, just – get away and hide," she ordered me. "I will cover you. Use it only if you have no other choice."

I stood as well, the dagger trembling in my open hand, and I closed my fist around it, trying to rally some courage.

"There," Caroline nodded to a gap between some trees, in the opposite direction to the Gate and the battle taking place there. "Run!"

As Caroline said the word 'run', another scream, a female scream this time, tore through the woods. Caroline and I froze at the agony behind it. As the scream faded, so did the sounds of fighting. I could no longer hear metal clashing against metal, or screaming, or anything, apart from Caroline and I breathing.

We waited, listening.

A terrible voice; harsh and low, like fire spitting as water was poured upon it, cut through the woods. It's words were unintelligible, but I had heard that language enough times in the past few weeks to recognise it as daedric. Then there was a whooshing, hissing noise, and the woods fell silent, as though the battle had never occurred.

I shuddered and doubled my grip on the hilt of the dagger so it wouldn't fall out of my quaking hands. Hearing the daedric voice meant that there were no Bruma guards left, but there were daedra about, still. Had the guards all been killed? Had any of them made it into the gate?

"Come," Caroline said in a low, sad voice. "It sounds like it's over. We should be able to sneak by, now."

I stared at Caroline, rooted to the spot. If we ran, if we walked past the carnage we had just heard, to the safety of Bruma, we might be leaving one of the lesser gates open, that the Dawn would use to create the Great Gate.

That was how it worked, wasn't it? I wracked my mind for the answer. Jauffre, having studied it, or Martin, having witnessed it in Kvatch, would know exactly how the lesser gates were used to form the Great Gate. Why had I never asked for more details?

 _Did you really think you would ever need to know_ , I asked myself?

Caroline had placed a hand on my arm to get my attention. I stared at it, noting with some oddness how it wasn't really her hand.

"We _must_ go," she insisted softly. "We cannot bring back the dead, but we may save the living if we make haste."

"And what about the gate?" I asked her hurriedly, just as quietly. "What if by running we allow the Dawn to open the Great Gate, while we're in Bruma?"

Caroline sighed, casting her eyes to the flicker of red in the distance, which I realised must have been the flames that encircled the gate structure itself. Had the dremora really retreated back into its deadlands, or was it silently patrolling the woods and guarding the gate, waiting for more to slaughter?

"I'm not sure that it can happen so quickly. Perhaps think of it this way," Caroline tried again. "We heard more than two Bruma guards fighting, over there," she turned back, but indicated the direction of the gate, with a tilt of her head. "If they didn't make it into the gate, what chance would you and I have, barely armed and dressed in common clothes?"

The dagger weighed heavily in my hand and I knew what Caroline was saying made sense.

"Would it not be wise to hasten to Bruma, and alert Captain Burd of what has happened here?" she added, in an urgent whisper.

I agreed with her, but I was also fixated on the notion that Oblivion gates had to be closed, as soon as they had formed, as I had urged the Elder Council. We didn't understand the time or method involved in producing a Great Gate, not really. And, if at least one dremora remained, alive as we had heard, it was likely that the guards sent to close the gate had been slain and none had made it through. What if this Captain Burd had been among them? _What if there are no more Bruma guards_ , a desperate voice in my mind demanded?

 _What do you think you'll be able to do_ , my mother's voice hissed at me. I pursed my lips at her tone, reminding myself I had plunged into Oblivion before, though of course, that time I had been better armed.

Caroline was right. It would be better to hurry to Bruma and alert the guards. They could send out another troop at once.

And then I remembered the horrified screams of agony we had heard during the battle.

I came to a decision; one that I knew Caroline would see as a reasonable compromise.

"All right," I whispered, turning to face the Nord that was Caroline, realising that I missed her true, softer, Breton features. I knew we were losing time, standing in the woods arguing, and wondered how much longer our Alteration spells would last. "What if we take a look?" I proposed. "See if that dremora is still there, or if anyone lives, but is injured and needs help?"

Caroline looked frustrated. "We are not healers. How can we possibly help anyone who survived?" she implored. "And what makes you believe that anybody _would_ have survived?"

"I don't know," I stood, determined. "We can drag them away from the gate, further into the woods," I fixed my gaze on the spot in the trees where I knew the gate was waiting, and saw another flash of red. "We can make sure they are hidden well enough so if any more daedra come, they won't be killed where they lie."

I knew that Caroline's sense of honour would win any war within her. She had been given a quest by Jauffre; to get me safely to Bruma. But I had known her for most of my life, and she was not a cold person, for all her single-mindedness. Checking to see if anyone needed help really _was_ the least we could do, and we would not lose much time doing it. And, we would be able to gather more information about what had happened, so the Bruma guard could act accordingly.

Caroline stood then too, and sighed. "All right," she held her arm out to me, and together we shifted out from behind the tree, but did not re-join the road. I let Caroline take the lead, falling into step behind her. "There will be no peace until you have your way," I heard her add in a mutter.

I gripped the dagger and tried to place my feet exactly where Caroline had stepped, silently, before me. She was taking a swift, but winding path around the road and the gate, stepping on exposed soft grass and moss, and avoiding the old, crusty snow, leaf-litter and rocks.

Before long, I could smell sulphur, and the air around us grew noticeably warmer. Caroline paused, and scouring the area, for signs of movement I supposed, but after a moment seemed satisfied, and pressed on again. I covered my mouth to make sure I didn't cough as the air grew thicker, and even warmer, and the smell of the gate became overwhelming.

Had it been like this at Kvatch? I could barely remember it.

Caroline ducked down into a crouch, without warning. I hurried to her side and crouched next to her, peering out into the clearing before us. The Oblivion gate hummed dimly; the only sound in the shattered clearing.

The gate, and the immediate area surrounding it, was a picture of devastation. The ground had been charred savagely, and there were no trees for a wide radius about it. I imagined that a sphere of fire might have appeared, cleared the ground of anything living and turned in on itself, leaving the gate at the centre of it, so crisp was the edge where the woods ended and destruction began.

The twisted bodies of both the yellow-clad Bruma guards and dremora littered the ground between us and the gate. I made myself look over them, reminding myself that I had suggested – insisted – we approach and look for survivors. I knew that we would have to go closer to see if any guards lived. There were twelve in total.

"The dremora we heard must have gone back," I whispered to Caroline.

She nodded, but her eyes were still on the gate in front of us. "The area seems clear," she stood. "If we are to do this, we must do it quickly," she told me.

Caroline and I hurried forward, she in one direction and I in the other, and I crouched by the closest guard I came upon, placing my fingers on the pulse point at their neck. The guard was male, and Nord, for under his guard's helmet I could see plaits of blonde hair and a tuft of darker blonde beard.

No pulse. I turned the man's head toward me gently, in case I had just missed the pulse point, but his stare was glassy; his eyes full of fear. I tried to stop my hands from shaking, as I reached forward to close them.

"Sister," Caroline hissed at me.

I tore my gaze from the guard. She was looking at me with a frown, and shook her head. "Keep moving."

I turned away and stood, walking to the next guard but knowing already that they were dead. It was an Imperial woman, by the looks of her complexion, but her body had been twisted into a very painful looking angle, and blood covered her torso.

Had her cry been the one we had heard, before the battle sounds had ceased?

I averted my eyes, aware that Caroline may call out to me again for lingering, but instead of moving on to the next Bruma guard, I let my gaze rove over the clearing for any signs of movement.

But everything was still; everyone was silent.

 _Hurry up_ , I prodded myself.

I moved from the next guard to hover over the daedroth - a scamp - lying beside him, for long enough to confirm the beast was dead.

None of the Bruma guards that I checked had survived. Despair seeped into me, but I couldn't bring myself to abandon the task in case one of the unchecked _did_ live.

I shielded my eyes as I drew closer to the Oblivion gate to check another Nord guard, for this close the red flames blazed with a white-hot gold that seared my skin and made me break out into a sweat. The brightness of the porthole was accentuated by the darkness of the gate structure that held it, and after confirming that the Nord guard near it had not survived, I turned away from it, coughing at the burning smell that clawed at my throat, but my cough carried no sound. This close to the gate, the buzzing that the structure and flames issued deafened me to all else.

I could see Caroline near the edge of the clearing, rising to her feet, and shaking her head. I started to walk toward her, certain that we had between us checked all of the Bruma guards and found nothing, when I noticed Caroline's manner very suddenly shifted from grim to alert.

I froze, watching as she turned away from me, and drew up a sword from the ground, from the hands of one of the fallen Bruma guards. She was calling something out, into the woods, but I couldn't hear what she was saying over the buzz of the gate while I was so close to it; I could only see her mouth move.

As suddenly as her manner had shifted, she leaped and dodged something, and I startled as an arrow whizzed past my ear.

I gasped, stunned as I cupped my hand over my ear to confirm that it hadn't grazed me, and crouched down, scrambling to the nearest fallen guard and praying that they had a bow on them.

They didn't, but they had a shield. I wrestled it from the guard's hand, raising it and peering back over the edge at Caroline. Still in the guise of the Nord woman who was supposed to be my sister, and in common clothes, she was completely vulnerable.

I made up my mind to run to her side with the shield, and as I rose, I saw Caroline dodge again, but then falter. My heart flew into my mouth and I hesitated, watching as Caroline staggered, and then arched her back, and with a sickening lurch, I realised she had been hit twice, by arrows.

"No!" I screamed, forgetting that I couldn't fight; forgetting Caroline's order that I run. My vision blurred as I moved toward her, from tears, I dimly realised, as my focus narrowed in on my goal: reach Caroline and protect her.

Caroline had stumbled to her knees when the second arrow had hit her, and now she leaped behind one of the fallen daedroth – another scamp.

I was half way across the clearing when the owner of the bow that was firing upon my bodyguard stepped out of the trees. While I was focused on Caroline I saw, in the corner of my eye, that their bow was raised again.

"Sister, get DOWN!" Caroline screamed at me from her cover.

I turned through the blur of tears that I had uselessly started crying and saw the Dremora that we had been so certain had gone back into Oblivion properly. Its bow was raised, as I had noted before, but it was aimed at _me_.

I crashed to my knees with a painful jolt and lifted the shield just in time; the arrow fired by the Dremora thudded into it with such a force that I was thrown backwards and the shield was knocked out of my hands.

Praying that the Dremora could not draw another arrow so swiftly, I scrambled for the shield, and noticed that the fallen guard I had stumbled behind for cover _did_ have a bow. Raising the shield with one hand, I grabbed for the bow with my other.

The Dremora roared then; a throaty, mocking call of triumph that rattled my bones. I peeked over the shield to see that it was running toward Caroline, having used up all of its arrows. Caroline had of course seen it, and had staggered to her feet, though being closer to her now, I could see an arrow sticking out of her torso, and another in her thigh. The bottom half of her common Nord clothing was covered in blood.

I searched the ground for the guard's scattered arrows, and picked up the first I found, cursing when I realised it had been snapped in half. The next I found was whole, and I nocked it, rising and dropping the shield with my mind and focus set on the Dremora charging toward my bodyguard. My companion, for so many years. My _sister._

Despite her injuries, Caroline swooped into an offensive stance and leaped forward from her good leg to meet the Dremora head-on. She must have been in a tremendous amount of pain as she had done it, but her sword slashed at the Dremora's arm, and she raised her injured leg in a kick that seemed to stun it.

The stagger was all the pause I needed to loose the arrow, and it found its mark in the foul beast's skull. Instead of falling straight away, the Dremora turned its vicious gaze to me, across the clearing, muttering something in daedric that burned down my spine like acid.

Then Caroline swung the blade in her hands again, and cut the creature's head from its body.

Numbed by what had just happened; and that we had both _survived_ , it took me a moment to find my feet. Caroline fell to her good knee, while trying to use the sword she held to prop herself up.

I hurried to her, throwing the bow I had retrieved over my shoulder as I ran.

She looked up to me, from those unfamiliar brown eyes of the Nord woman she was masquerading as. I could have sworn that her eyes flickered her natural grey in that moment, as her look conveyed that she was in a great amount of pain.

I knelt by her, inspecting the arrow in her torso; I barely touched it and she startled, making _me_ startle.

"What do I do?" I asked her swiftly, my voice wavering.

"My Lady," she puffed, easing from her knee down to lie on the charred earth. "Please. Search the guards again," she wheezed for a moment, closing her eyes and composing herself. "They should all carry potions. Standard issue," she winced again.

 _Of course_. I rushed to the nearest fallen Bruma guard, pushing a nausea rising in me resolutely aside as I dug through the dead man's clothing. I found a ring, which I shoved back into his pocket with a grimace, but no potions. It was then I noticed the tiny red bottle by his side, only it was unstoppered and empty. I hurried to the next guard closest to us.

This one _did_ have an unopened red bottle on them and I raced back to Caroline, pulling its cork and shoving it into her trembling hand. The blood from her wounds had all but dyed her common blue dress a dark, sickly violet colour.

She upended it into her mouth, swallowed with a cringe, then pointed back out into the clearing.

"More," she gasped, the now-empty potion bottle falling from her still-shaking hand.

I didn't wait for further instruction and hurried to the next nearest, retrieving what I could. Stamina potions. They would do. The next guard had no potions, but did have a lovingly-wrapped piece of onion bread in their pocket, which made my tears return when I took it. The part of me that wasn't deathly afraid for Caroline wondered how many families had lost dear ones that day. The same guard had nearly a full quiver of arrows on his back, which I took and threw over my shoulder.

I retrieved another two potions before going back to Caroline's side. I knelt on the charred earth and set it all down beside her. The flames of the Oblivion gate burned at my back; a searing reminder that we were not safe out here in the open, even if Caroline was in the process of being healed.

Caroline looked furious as she drank the contents of a few of the stamina bottles before her.

It took me a moment to realise that she was angry at herself, but I didn't know why exactly, or what I could say to make any of this better. It had been from my instance to approach the gate that she had nearly been killed.

She unwrapped the bread and bit a chunk out of it, glaring up at the gate behind me.

"Can you move?" I asked her after she had swallowed.

She started nodding, and motioned for me to assist her to rise, when she did a double-take, her eyes widening at something behind me.

Before I could think twice about it, I had taken an arrow from the quiver, and turned toward the gate, bow raised in my hand. I noticed a scamp emerging as I drew, its lizard-head flicking this way and that, searching for whatever it could destroy. I loosed, and it dropped, half-protruding out of the gate, before it had even seen us.

I turned back swiftly and held my hand out to Caroline. She was looking at me with a gratifying expression on her face, and I saw, with some satisfaction, that the colour had returned to her cheeks.

I helped her to stand, overwhelmed by the realisation that I had nearly lost her. I may have tried to stop her from attending on me and fussing with my hair each day, but the truth of it was that I couldn't bare the thought of her dying. I realised, looking at her as she steadied herself on her feet, that Martin wasn't the only person I would dive into Oblivion to save.

I made a choice, right then, that I knew Caroline might never forgive me for.

I would go into Oblivion for her, and for the fallen Bruma guards, and for the families who had lost their loved ones on this day and every day before it. I would do this until the Oblivion gates were no longer a threat.

I helped Caroline limp toward the tree line as I promised to strive to be the Hero that the Black Horse Courier said I was; the Hero that Martin saw me as; the Hero that the late Emperor had suggested I would become.

"I am well enough to walk," she assured me, letting go of my supporting arm, and continued on, unaware of my realisations. She leaned against a tree, wincing as she wrapped her fingers around the arrow shaft protruding from her leg, testing it.

I had stopped, where she had left me, and stood watching her now, knowing what I had to do, and steeling myself for the argument to come.

I turned from her and crouched, swiftly stripping the armour from one of the Bruma guards. The guard was Breton, and smaller in build than her comrades.

"What are you doing?" Caroline spluttered.

I ignored her as I let go of the bow and arrow long enough to shrug the yellow chain mail over my head. "Don't try to stop me," I told her, finality in my tone.

"You _can't_ be - you're not going _into_ that thing?"

I stood, buckling the guard's belt around me and adjusting it so that the scabbard rested on my hip, praying that I wouldn't have to use the short sword in it, but realising that eventually, I would have little choice.

"Stop it," I cut her off, retrieving the bow and fastening the quiver around me securely. I began searching through the other guard's clothing hurriedly, pocketing the odd potion and adding to my armour when I found something useful.

Caroline tried to move toward me the entire time, but I shifted easily out of her reach each time.

"You need to save your strength," I told her, "and make for Bruma. Tell the guards what has happened here. Send them after me," I ordered her, ignoring her sound of protest. "And then I _order_ you to go to the Chapel, and seek healing. You are _not_ to come through this gate after me."

" _Sarina,_ this is absurd, listen to yourself!"

"No, Caroline, you listen to me," I fastened a pair of leather gauntlets around my wrists, tightening the thongs. "Whether you like it or not," I picked up a helmet from the ground, which must have been knocked off during the battle. "The late Emperor foresaw that I would be bound to these events, these gates," I put the helmet on my head, and turned from Caroline, knowing that if I was to go, it had to be now.

"I will be stealthy, and slow," I assured her, staring down the Oblivion gate as I mustered my courage.

"The Alteration spell will wear off," she warned me, a desperate weariness in her tone.

I nodded, though I had forgotten for the moment that I did not look like myself. "Then hurry up and send help," I marched toward the gate, before I could change my mind.

I didn't hear Caroline's reply as I pushed aside the scamp I had shot, and charged through, my bow raised and ready to fire.


	24. Through Oblivion

When the violent rushing, falling sensation stopped and I steadied myself on the other side of the gateway, the full heat of Mehrunes Dagon's deadlands hammered against me, pushing the air from my lungs. I gasped a breath in as I turned, my bow raised, searching for daedra, and coughed as the thicker air burned through my lungs.

I lowered my bow, counting the fallen splayed out before me. Six fallen scamps. Two fallen Bruma guards. Three piles of ash. Some of them _had_ made it through, but not much further than their comrades.

Stepping in the direction of the nearest of the two guards, I surveyed the landscape. It was both familiar and alien, and roused both fear and loathing in me, which I tried to shove aside immediately in order to stay on task. There was no Ilend, this time, and I had to remain focussed if I wanted to make it out alive.

The sky burned red and had dark clouds swirling across it, fanned by a savage hot wind that battered against my acquired armour and made the skirt of the common dress I wore under it flap frantically against my legs. Tall, dark spikes of stone jutted out of the landscape at intervals, surrounded by rockfalls of a lighter-coloured stone, laced with hot, partially molten nodules and indentations. The path leading away from the gate almost glowed in the ethereal, bloody light. I cast my eyes further, to the distant black towers I knew would be there, and – there it was – a column of sickly, yellowish-white light, shooting straight up from the top of the shadowed structure and piercing the clouds.

I knelt beside the fallen guard; a tall, handsome Nord man, perhaps in his forties, with short, dark hair peppered with grey at the temples. His eyes were closed, his armour singed, and there was blood on one sleeve. With a pang of sorrow looking at his serene face, I checked his pulse point, but startled back when I felt the blood pulsing at his neck.

"You're alive," I whispered in a rush, reaching into one of the small satchels on the guard belt I wore to retrieve a potion. Casting a quick glance around to make sure no daedra had crept up while I'd been occupied, I unstoppered the bottle, remembering what I had learned very quickly from my first journey through Oblivion; daedra didn't sneak up on you.

Dribbling a little of the thick potion in between the Nord guard's lips, I watched his neck and waited, satisfied when I saw him swallow.

"Hey," I patted the man's cheeks softly, lifting his head into my lap. "Soldier," I tried again, and was rewarded with a quiet groan and a flutter of his eyelids.

I leaned back as the man's eyes opened slowly. At once, he tried to rise, groaning again.

I shushed him, helping him up into a sitting position. "Careful," I told him quietly, my voice rasping from the dry, hot air. I cast another glance around us to make sure his groans had not attracted any unwanted visitors. He hadn't. I turned back to the guard, wetting my lips before I spoke this time.

"Can you walk?" I asked him, handing him the unfinished potion bottle.

The guard's steely-blue eyes gained some focus as he drank, and they stared warily at me. He was taking in my appearance, and while he seemed more and more alert at each moment, his brows wrinkled with confusion as he continued his assessment.

I wished he would hurry, and stood, feeling self-conscious as I adjusted my grip on the bow, the arrow in it locked in place and ready to fire. I nodded to the gate, as I smoothed my armour back down with my free hand. "The exit is over there," I told him.

As I turned to leave, the man finally spoke, his voice low and lilting, laced with the Nord accent Caroline and I had been attempting to mimic.

"You are not one of my guards," he said, with some hesitancy.

I moved to the other Bruma guard, and checked for his pulse. _Nothing_. This one hadn't been so lucky.

The Nord guard was getting to his feet, apparently unfazed by my lack of response. I frowned up at him as I rose from his fallen comrade, and shook my head. "I'm sorry," I told him. Perhaps he hadn't been witness to the destruction that had taken place back in the woods, before he had entered Oblivion. None of the other guards were coming.

He moved to my side, drawing his sword and staring sadly down at the guard at our feet. "Ah, Godrel," he muttered, with a sorrowful shake of his head. "Why did you insist on following me into this hell?"

I stared up at him, realising now just how much taller he was than I. If he would come with me, he would more than double my chance of success, but I wasn't sure how to ask him, particularly while he stood over the fallen Godrel. "I am sorry, for the loss of your friends," I told him, then turned to leave, to head deeper into the deadlands.

As I walked, I wasn't surprised to find the Bruma guard fall into step beside me, but relief filled me when he did.

"You are not one of my guards," he repeated what he had stated earlier. "Who are you?"

I shushed him again, shaking my head and fixing him with a serious look. "It is best if we do not speak. You'll attract daedra to us."

The man pursed his lips, but nodded. We continued along the path's edge, searching all the while for the signs of movement that might indicate a daedric beast ahead. For a time, we walked in silence. A mournfully howling wind intermittently ruffled our clothes and armour. When we saw movement, the guard and I would press our backs flat against the enormous stone spikes that littered the side of the path we were taking, watching and waiting for the movement to come again. Once or twice, I loosed arrows and felled scamps before we moved on.

If the Bruma guard accompanying me still had questions, he didn't act like it, once we were on the move. I was gratified by his acceptance of me, and it fed the courage within me, eroding my doubts about the course of action I had taken when I'd stepped through the gate alone.

Peering around a bend in the road as we crept onward, I noticed that the path ahead widened, then deviated, with stone bridges leading out to a line of towers, each patrolled by a dremora guard. _Felling one will alert the others_ , I told myself, as I whispered what I'd seen to the Bruma guard, and readied an arrow.

The man nodded that he understood, his eyes hard and alert, and his muscles tensed as his grip tightened around his sword.

"I will take as many of them as I can," I whispered to him, before turning back and aiming at the nearest of the dremora. It was within range, but if it walked to the other end of the bridge to its tower, it wouldn't be.

Remaining still and breathing shallowly, I waited until the nearest dremora had turned its back to us, then loosed my arrow. It struck the creature between its shoulder blades, but as it fell it screamed; a furious roar that was amplified when the sound bounced between the towers and the jutting, rocky landscape. I heard the Bruma guard behind me make a disgruntled sound, as the dremora patrolling the tower bridges further out turned and watched as the one I had shot fell from the force of impact, off the bridge and into the liquid rock bubbling along side it. As soon as its body fell away, the other daedra in the area started moving, baying and shouting, and searching for whoever was attacking them. Searching for _us._

 _One hit_ , I noted victoriously, despite alerting the other daedra to our attack, as my heart thumped in my chest. I readied another arrow and waited until the next nearest dremora hesitated as it searched, before I loosed it. It had started moving again before the arrow reached it, but it hit the creature in its arm, and it howled with rage, staring at the arrow now protruding from it, grabbing at it with it's other hand and frantically tugged at it. I aimed quickly and shot again, this time hitting the beast in the chest, and it too fell into the lava beside the bridge.

My companion suddenly leaped in front of me, crying out and swinging his sword as a dremora reached our cover. I startled backward, shaken that I had not noticed how close the beast had gotten to us while I'd been focused on the second dremora, realising that I would have been dead – again – if it had not been for this guard.

With a speed I couldn't believe possible of such a large man, he felled the dremora charging us with one stroke, and I hurriedly readied another arrow, firing on the fourth before it reached him. My arrow struck the dremora in the leg, and this made it hesitate long enough for the Bruma guard to finish it off.

An arrow whizzed past my face; I leaped back, leaning against the hard dark stone of one of the protruding jagged rock faces, gasping from shock as adrenaline surged through me. Of course, one of the dremora would have a bow. I angrily told myself to be more observant. I pressed myself against the rock we were using as cover, as the Bruma guard raced back around to join me. His sword was bloodied, streaked black and dripping with the blood of the daedra he'd felled.

"One more," he told me, his eyes wild, but his movements controlled. "Can you take it?" he asked swiftly.

I envied his apparent composure as I acknowledged his words with a quick nod, and readied myself.

The guard checked around the side of the rock with a glance and then turned back. "It's approaching, but it moves more slowly when its bow is raised. Attack after it shoots its next arrow," he told me.

Noting how swiftly this Bruma guard had fallen into giving me orders, and somewhat grateful for it, I began to wonder who he was, but cast the question aside for later as I nodded again, and forced myself to steady my breathing, despite the constant hammering of my heart in my chest.

He stuck his head around the side of the rock again, and I exhaled slowly, standing beside him, bow raised and ready.

The guard pulled himself back suddenly, and not a moment too soon, as another arrow zoomed past us. Had he not moved so quickly, it would have killed him instantly.

"Now!" he cried, as I realised he had effectively used himself as bait, to make the creature fire.

I didn't hesitate, stepping out from our cover and taking aim in the same moment. The dremora was out in the open, and I fired. In the act of drawing another arrow, the creature barely had time to dodge and my arrow hit it, embedding in its chest. It spasmed as it hollered in outrage, and my companion took that moment to leap out from the rock and charge the wounded beast.

With a sweeping stroke from the Bruma guard, it fell down, silenced.

I readied another arrow, eyes scanning in front of and then behind us for any more signs of movement. No more daedra. For the moment, the battle seemed to be over.

The Bruma guard flicked the dark dremora blood from his sword as he walked back to me.

"Burd," he told me, his voice gruff, as he held out a gauntleted hand in greeting.

Assuming this was his name, I held out my hand uncertainly, unaccustomed to greeting people in this common way, let alone while wearing gauntlets. He shook my hand with a strong grip.

"Sarina," I told him. "Wait," I added quickly, as I remembered hearing the name before. " _You're_ Captain Burd?" I confirmed. "Captain of the Bruma guard?"

"Aye, I am." he nodded, letting go of my hand. "Sarina, you say? That is not a Nord name," he turned back to the road we had been travelling, peering around the corner.

I inwardly cursed, realising I'd given him my real name without thinking about it, while the Alteration spell still had me disguised as a Nord girl.

"All clear," he said. It seemed that he didn't require a response from me.

I shook off my slip up, telling myself that it didn't matter - this was an ally, not an enemy - and fell into step beside him.

We walked in silence for a while longer, watchful for signs of movement, and I indicated that we were to head for the tower with the sickly yellow light emanating from it.

Captain Burd nodded in agreement, and we continued on, but after a moment, he spoke.

"I take it that if you are here, none of my unit survived."

He was watching the road, his eyes hard, not bright, as I had expected them to be after such a statement. Again, he didn't seem to require confirmation, but I nodded anyway.

"I am sorry," I said stiffly, wondering how he had not seen the destruction for himself. Perhaps the Bruma guards had planned for the Captain and a few of the others to rush into the gate, while the rest defended.

He shook his head, ever-watchful of the horizon. "You don't sound like a Nord, either," he sighed. "But now is not the time for your story," he muttered, in a resigned way. "If we survive these dark lands, though, I would hear it over an ale or three, if you would tell it to anybody."

 _Oh, you'll hear my story soon enough_ , I flushed, feeling as though I was deceiving him. Well, wasn't I?

I didn't reply, having left the silence between us too long to voice one, and we continued on. Close to our destination, we spotted a dremora patrolling the dark, heavy door, but I made short work of it with an arrow to the head.

Heartened by the knowledge that I _was_ able to fell a dremora with a single arrow now, Burd and I hurried to the creature's side, and the Captain leaned down to retrieve a key from its belt.

I noticed that I was running low on arrows, and took what was left from the quiver strapped to the felled dremora's back while the Captain unlocked the door to the tower where the Sigil stone was waiting for us.

The enormous doorway, carved with daedric lettering, pushed inward with a click-and-grinding noise, but I didn't worry that any daedra within had heard it; as in Kvatch, the tower containing the Sigil stone was buzzing, flooding our senses with rattling harmonics from the dazzling central column of bright yellow-white light.

Captain Burd didn't hesitate, and I was surprised for just a moment that he hadn't even faltered at the overwhelming sound and sight, but then wondered if perhaps this was not his first time to Oblivion. When he turned back to me and indicated that we go up, I nodded, knowing that it must have been the case.

How many Oblivion gates had the Bruma guard already closed?

We crept through the tower, the roaring of the Sigil stone covering any noise we might have made. I felled all daedra we encountered, and I made sure to retrieve each arrow from the corpses as we passed them, to ensure I wouldn't run out. Captain Burd had little to do, and I sensed he was as grateful for it as I was. Lone daedra made our task so much easier.

But of course, our luck didn't last. We approached the top chamber of the tower, where I could just make out the outline of the glowing Sigil stone around the light radiating from it. Just as it had been in Kvatch, three dremora stood guarding the stone, covering any direction we could have come at them from.

Captain Burd and I leaned against the wall of the hallway outside of the Sigil stone's platform, and he indicated that I draw closer to him.

"Only one of them has arrows," he said, close to my ear. "Take it out first, and then the one with the mace. I will take the other."

I nodded, taking a deep breath and telling myself that I _had_ to remain composed if I was to manage two dremora.

He leaned back against the wall, and held up three fingers to me. Then two, and one, and I realised he was counting us down, just in time to react. When he held his fist up, we turned in unison, and I raised my bow, aiming and firing at the dremora lazily holding its own bow, which happened to be closest to us. I caught the shocked expression on its features before the arrow pierced the side of its chest, and it fell, injured but not dead, but it was in no position to rush us any longer and I had already drawn another arrow.

Captain Burd screamed an unintelligible battle-cry, but I barely heard it over the noise of the Sigil stone. The two dremora ran for him as he charged the one with a sword, and I tracked the mace-wielding one, firing too early and cursing as the arrow only nicked the creature's arm.

I drew a third arrow, repeating again and again to myself that I had to remain calm, my fingers shaking slightly as I saw that both the dremora I had shot were focussed on me, and the first I had shot was back on its feet.

I fired again; a clumsy shot at the first dremora, which struck the beast in the leg and slowed it. I turned and ran back into the hallway we had been hiding in, pressing my back against the wall as I readied a fourth arrow. I whirled around, just in time to duck as the mace-wielding dremora threw its weight into a slow, swinging arc that whooshed over my head, clipping the top of the helmet I was wearing and jarring me enough that my teeth rattled in my skull. The creature's mace slammed with its full force into the wall I had been leaning against, where my head had been only a second earlier.

Still crouched, I angled my bow, and fired the arrow up at the creature's face, point-blank, then hurried away as it fell. I knew there was no way it would have survived that shot, and I ran around the hallway, to the next entrance to the Sigil stone's platform, praying that Burd was okay.

I paused next to the entrance and out of sight, breathing the hot air in great gasps as I positioned the next arrow in my bow. I had a handful left, but it would have to be enough. I had already shot the other creature twice, and the next time, I told myself resolutely, I would not miss.

I turned out into the open again, arrow ready, to see that Burd was still battling the sword-wielding dremora, parrying and thrusting, blocking and diving out of reach with a roll. There was more blood on the Captain's arm, but in the flurry of movement coming from the battle, I couldn't tell if it was his or not. The dremora with the bow was kneeling from its injuries, but had its bow raised, trained on Burd, waiting, I assumed, for an opportunity to fire.

It must have assumed that the one with the mace had finished me. Either that, or it was too stupid to remember that I was in the room, when it couldn't see me.

I had a perfect shot and fired before the dremora found its own moment, and this time it dropped to the platform and stilled.

In case Captain Burd needed my bow again I readied another arrow and waited, bow drawn, tracking the beast he fought. They moved about too much for me to risk shooting and catching the guard in the cross-fire, but I was ready.

I needn't have worried, as with a mighty leap and final stab, the Captain drove his sword deep into the dremora's chest, and the beast's eyes bulged out of its head as it dropped its weapon and fell; first, into a kneeling position, and then, when Burd withdrew his sword, flat on its face.

It was over. I couldn't help but grin and laugh, removing my helmet to cease the ringing that the Sigil stone's clamour created from within it, and dropping it to the floor beside me. The noise was still completely all-consuming, but at least it no longer echoed in my ears.

Captain Burd's eyes sought me, and I stepped back into the platform room, feeling lighter than I had since entering Oblivion. Seeing that I was all right, he did a double take, his head tilting and his face confused again, the expression directed at me. I had no idea what he was wondering and barely cared as I strode forward, indicating the Sigil stone with a nod as I passed him. He raised his sword arm, scratching the back of his hand against his forehead, his eyes ever-watchful and full of questions. I felt slightly unnerved by his persistent gaze as I walked past him.

Without ceremony, I lifted the stone from its setting, and noticed fleetingly that my hands were no longer plump, before I was engulfed by a haze of blinding white light and lifted off my feet to float in nothingness as the realm collapsed around us.

–

" _It's you again."_

" _Yes," I answer with my mind. There is nothing to see in the whiteness, nothing to touch, nothing to fear. I am blind but I feel nothing as I float._

" _You ignorant child. Even as you strive to hinder us you do His work and seal the priest's fate," the same voice spits, mocking me. It's male, laced with malice._

_I answer the whiteness with my thoughts again. "I won't let you harm him," I promise._

_The voice laughs, the sound echoing in my head, "Every step you take in Mundus propels him faster toward his doom."_

_I'm astonished when I realise I recognise the laugh, and thus, the speaker._

" _You're Mankar Camoran," I identify it._

_The laughter stops, and a ringing noise builds in my ears, deafening me as the whiteness somehow becomes more white._

_Then I fall and the fear I had not been able to feel before rushes in, making me double-over with its crushing force._

–

The whiteness faded as I began to smell and see again. I was still doubled-over, holding something hard to my stomach, where it felt as though the fear had punched me. I eased myself up and back, onto my knees, noticing that the Sigil stone was still in my hands; dull, round and lifeless. Without light pouring out of it in all directions, I could see it clearly for the first time. It had an ancient look about it, and was nearly completely smooth and black, with a few worn, embossed indentations running around it in rings. The blackness had rubbed away in a few places, and a wine-coloured underlay showed through in those spots.

Intrigued and distracted by the sight of the Sigil stone, wondering if it had any power outside of Oblivion, I didn't hear Captain Burd calling my name, until he was standing right in front of me, blocking the sun.

"Oh," I blinked, looking up to the silhouetted Captain holding his hand out to me. I gratefully placed my hand in his, and let him help me to my feet, cradling the inert Sigil stone against my chest. Perhaps Martin would want to see it, study it.

_Martin._

" _Even as you strive to hinder us you do His work and seal the priest's fate."_

I stumbled, gasping as the memory of the dream-like strangeness that had ensnared me between the gate closing and our arriving back outside of Bruma flooded me.

" _Every step you take in Mundus propels him faster toward his doom."_

The Sigil stone fell out of my hand and rolled across the clearing until it hit one of the poor dead Bruma guards, and Captain Burd stepped forward to catch me, his hands flying to both of my arms.

"Steady," he held me, keeping a respectable distance between us as he gave me a critical look. "You are wearing a different face."

I eased away and extracted myself from his grip, putting a step between us. "Captain, what happened to you when the Sigil stone was removed?" I asked hastily. "Do you remember anything?"

The Captain frowned, but seemed to accept that I wasn't going to answer his question again. "I remember light-"

"Yes, but after that," I urged him on hurriedly.

He shook his head. "Then, I was here, waking up as though from a dream, just like the other times," he cast his eyes around the clearing, and I saw the weight of what had happened there settling on his shoulders. He turned his eyes down. "I must return to Bruma."

I didn't press him for more information, but bit my bottom lip, puzzling over what had happened to me after the Sigil stone had been removed. I couldn't remember what had happened in Kvatch after I'd removed the Sigil stone, but I remembered Martin telling me, when I had woken in the Chapel, that I had been there, injured, for two days. At the same time, I remembered that I had wanted to ask him what I had said or done, because while I couldn't remember the after-time, apparently I had been conscious for some of it.

"There are many families who need to know of the sacrifice their loved ones made, so they might live a little longer," Captain Burd started to leave.

"Wait," I called to him, turning to stoop and retrieve the Sigil stone. When I rose, I noticed the cold, quiet Oblivion gate, standing tall; a blight on the landscape, though I could see the woods the other side of the clearing through it now. I scowled at it, wondering if it was possible to dismantle the things once they had been deactivated. "I will walk with you," I said, turning away from it.

The Captain waited for me to catch him up, and then together we walked through the woods and joined the road to Bruma.

We walked in silence for a time, and I wondered how long had passed since I had left Caroline in the clearing and entered the gate. The sun was shining brightly, as it had been prior to my entering the gate. But it was afternoon, now. Had it only been a few hours? Or had a day, or more, passed?

 _You will know soon enough,_ I sighed, telling myself to be patient.

I pushed my hair back from my face, grimacing at the filth and sweat I felt as I did. I must have reeked, and suddenly longed for a bath, to wash the day, and the deadlands, from me.

I felt the Captain's eyes on me again, and cast him a glance, expecting him to ask me who I was again, or perhaps why I had entered Oblivion, but he surprised me, adopting a more conversational tone.

"You are staying in Bruma?" he asked, his accent giving his words a slightly melodic quality that I hadn't noticed before.

I nodded as I shifted the weight of the Sigil stone to my other arm. "Yes, I have business there," I answered, then realised that there was no point in not telling him a little of the truth, now that my Alteration spell had worn off. If there were Mythic Dawn in the woods between here or Bruma, they would recognise me. After the hostility of Oblivion, I found that the thought didn't bother me as much as it had before.

Captain Burd made a sound of acceptance, and I came to a decision.

"I am sorry, Captain," I sighed. "I am bound for Bruma, yes, to visit the Countess," I told him. He was staring at me again, but I pushed on, resolutely looking to the path in the distance. "I would tell you more," I continued, in a hushed voice, "but the trees might have ears."

The Captain seemed to understand, and we walked another span in silence. The sun drifted lower, toward the horizon, and the shadows of the trees along the road lengthened. I listened to the sound of the wind in the trees, and was delighted to hear a flutter of wings and a trill of bird song. The oppressive silence caused by the gate was gone, at least, even if the structure that had contained the porthole remained.

"Sarina," Captain Burd seemed to mutter thoughtfully, at one point, and I looked up to him questioningly. He cast me an apologetic look, and I had the thought that he had not meant to say my name out loud.

By way of explanation, he added, "I feel as though I should know you."

I wasn't sure of how to reply to this, so offered a small smile instead. "How many Oblivion gates have you closed?" I changed the subject. We rounded another corner in the winding mountain road, and I thought I could see the high walls of Bruma, through the trees. We were nearly there!

Captain Burd considered for a moment. "In truth, I have stopped counting. More than I would like," he offered as an afterthought.

 _And there will be more to come_ , I reminded myself, sobering.

We approached the northern gate as the sun was setting, the horizon pinking as the skies above us turned indigo. I sighed an enormous sigh of relief as we entered the city, relieved that we had not encountered any Mythic Dawn agents on the way.

The heavy gates of Bruma closed behind us, and the Captain of the Guard turned to me fully. "I am bound for the Countess, to make my report," he told me. "I shall tell her of your part in what took place today, if you wish to seek audience with her immediately. I am certain she will receive you."

I tried not to let my amusement show but my eyes shone as I smiled, coming to a decision and passing the Sigil stone to the slightly bewildered Burd. "Thank you," I told him quietly, casting a glance either side of us, to ensure I wouldn't be overheard. "Please, give the Countess this, and tell her that Sarina Passero will call on her on the morrow, with a request from the Grandmaster of the Blades," I dipped my head in farewell, then turned away from him as the Captain spluttered in astonishment.

Despite any further questions Captain Burd had, now that I was in Bruma I had to locate Caroline, and now that our Alteration spells had worn off, we would have to move more carefully to minimise exposure. I felt I could trust the Captain; two people did not go through what we had in Oblivion and come out of it distrusting one another, and it would serve us well, I reasoned, for him to alert Countess Carvain of both our arrival in her city, and my part in the closing of the gate outside of it.

I idly wondered why Caroline hadn't sent any of the Bruma guards after us, and why those at the gate hadn't been astonished or relieved to see us, but I dismissed the thought, reasoning that Caroline may have simply not been believed, appearing to them as a blood-covered Nord woman with the wrong accent.

In the muted light of evening, I hastened toward the Chapel of Talos that rose above the other buildings in the distance, reasoning that even if Caroline was not still there, the priests might be able to tell me where she had gone, and then together we could plan what exactly I was going to say to the Countess of Bruma.


	25. Bruma

As was customary for all Chapels serving any of the Nine Divines, the door was always open. I stepped into the cavernous building, my eyes drifting up as I stood and waited in the entrance for the priest on duty to notice me. I suddenly felt very small; the stone walls reaching ever upward and disappearing into blackness in the minimal evening light. A cold breeze fluttered through the open doorway and ruffled my dress against my legs, and I shivered, realising how icy it was, now that the sun had set. I turned as I heard the approach of shuffling footsteps to see a priest hurrying toward me.

He was Redguard, and while his hair had been cut and his head shaved on top in the manner of a priest, he wore loose, common clothes instead of a monk's robe.

He came to a halt and bowed. "Praise the Nine and greetings to you, soldier."

I was confused for a moment, then remembered that I was wearing the armour of a Bruma guard.

"I am Cirroc," he continued, and I noticed a stiffness to his demeanour, as he continued formally. "What service do you seek of the Chapel? I can offer you healing or counsel, in return for a meagre donation."

I returned the conventional bow in greeting, and smiled, wondering why the man seemed to be on edge, though he tried to hide it. "Greetings, Brother. I require neither, actually. I am hoping you can help me locate my companion," I hesitated, wondering whether to describe Caroline as the Nord she would have been when she arrived, or the Breton she now must be. "She would have come to you seeking healing," I left it at that, still unsure about how much time had passed while I'd been in Oblivion with the Captain.

Cirroc nodded, and motioned for me to walk before him. "Many come in need of healing, though few would admit it," he replied obliquely, indicating that we move toward the central alter.

I tried not to sigh at the priest's round-about way of replying to me. "She had been shot, several times, and had lost a lot of blood," I said bluntly. "I gave her what potions I had on hand, but she needed deeper healing than potions would give her."

Cirroc's eyes widened, and his unease seemed to double. "None have sought the Chapel with battle injuries for days," he began, his eyes roving over my appearance, with more uncertainty than was comfortable. I stopped walking with him, hanging back, wondering if I should run.

"However," he added slowly, "I did treat a Nord woman with such injuries earlier today, from the city dungeons," he offered somewhat reluctantly.

_What?_

"What did she look like?" I asked hurriedly. "Why was she in the dungeons, what was her crime?"

"She was..." he hesitated, then seemed to reconsider. "She assaulted one of the city guards, I believe," he took a step back from me.

**What?**

It took me a moment to realise that Cirroc was uneasy because he worried that _I_ would attack him. I wanted to laugh at the prospect, but concern over Caroline's imprisonment – _assaulted a city guard?_ \- kept the laughter at bay. What had happened?

I breathed deeply and focussed on that, reigning in my worries and placing them behind a mask of what I hoped was gratitude. I smiled, and bowed my head to the priest in farewell.

"Thank you, Brother Cirroc, for healing my friend," I turned to leave.

"Talos guide you," he called after me, relief evident in his voice.

 _Relief that you're leaving_ , I told myself.

I dismissed the absurdity of anyone being wary of _me_ , and shook my head as I stormed back along the road and up to the Castle, my mind reeling. There had to be some mistake.

Only then, while I was walking, did I notice that the winding roads and alleyways of Bruma were silent and empty of other people. Night had fallen, but it was not that late. A chill rippled through me as I stuck to the shadows and doubled my pace.

–

I had hoped that I would enter Castle Bruma the following morning with Caroline, preferably after bathing, sleeping a while, and dressing in something befitting my status. Instead, I was approaching the gates still reeking of Mehrunes Dagon's deadlands, in ill-fitting armour and common clothing that was charred and splattered with blackened blood. My hair was oily and full of grime and sweat, and my face was streaked with soot. But there was nothing for it.

I stopped at the entrance to the Castle courtyard, standing tall and reminding myself that, despite appearances, I was Lady Passero, and I needed to muster all the aristocratic glamour I could to retrieve Caroline without causing further trouble or delays.

The guard on duty at the entrance gave me a cautious glance and I smiled widely at him.

"Good evening to you," I dipped into a small curtsy, the kind of which I would have used to greet an Imperial Legion Captain. "My apologies for calling on the Castle at such an hour," I rose.

"You're not one of the Bruma guard," the gate guard told me warily, the lilting accent drawing out his words.

I shook my head, wondering with a little frustration why first Burd and now this guard seemed fixated on such a thing.

"I did not mean to deceive you, soldier, but I have come from battle and only borrowed the armour out of great need," I said in what I hoped was a humble voice.

The guard's eyes narrowed a little. "Who are you?" he asked in a low voice.

 _Damn._ Why were they all so wary of me? Were the people always like this? I knew that the chiefly-Nord inhabitants of Bruma were a superstitious lot but this was verging on irrational.

I looked at him squarely, which was a feat because the Nord was several heads taller than I. "I am Lady Passero," I told him, and hoped that this guard would not see fit to advertise my presence to his comrades later, but I could not think of an alternative name to give him. Recognition flared in his eyes at my name, though when the rest of his expression didn't alter I wondered if I should feel cheered or not.

"I have been lead to believe that you have my bodyguard in custody?" I continued. "I am here to pay her bounty and retrieve her," I added, hoping that was all this guard needed to know. I didn't want to have to explain about the Oblivion gate, or that I was visiting the Countess later.

 _If only you'd come up to the Castle with Captain Burd, you wouldn't have had to go through all of this_ , I chastised myself. But how could I have known what had happened to Caroline?

While the guard was still gruff as ever, he stepped aside. "Of course, _my Lady_ ," he said, with some awkwardness. "This way. You had best leave the armour with us, so that you are not bothered by others you encounter."

He motioned that I enter the guardhouse door, just inside the gateway.

"If you believe it to be best," I said calmly, though my heart hammered in my chest as I entered the guardhouse. The guard fell into step directly behind me.

It was lighter in here, and there were two more Bruma guards inside, sitting at a small table. A female Nord was writing a letter, and the other, an Imperial man, was eating his dinner. Both sat up to attention as I was brought in, their eyes immediately hard, and trained on me.

Realising that I hadn't eaten since that morning in Jauffre's office at Cloud Ruler Temple, I turned away from the sight of food to try and ignore both it and my stomach's protests, and began shrugging out of the armour.

The guard who had lead me into the room spoke up pointedly, directing one of the guards to escort me to the dungeons to retrieve my bodyguard. He said my name in such a way that I knew at once that he didn't believe me, and I suddenly wondered if I was being taken prisoner?

Rallying my courage, and telling myself that I had to stand tall and act as though all was well for as long as possible, I placed the armour I'd borrowed on a bench by the door and followed the Imperial guard who'd risen, smoothing my dress down as I walked with all the grace I had. At least the dress wasn't as filthy on top as the armour was, and I felt much lighter now that I wasn't wearing chainmail.

Rather than leading me back out into the courtyard and through the front doors of the castle, as I had expected him to, the guard lead me through another door in the guardhouse which lead to a windowless brick tunnel. Pools of golden light lit it at intervals; lanterns hanging from iron hooks set into the wall.

The guard who was escorting me didn't speak, and my anxiety grew as we walked. What would I do if they threw me into a cell? I had nothing but my word to identify me as who I was.

We stopped at another doorway finally, and I was lead down a stone flight of steps into what was unmistakably a dungeon. The entry to the dungeons was brightly lit by permanent sconces on the wall and there was a small table in the middle of the room, behind which sat another Bruma guard, the jailor, who was eating his dinner as well.

He sat up as we entered, but only watched us as the guard escorting me turned and lead me to an antechamber. With relief, I saw that the door wasn't barred.

"Wait here," the guard told me.

I nodded demurely, thanking the guard for bringing me, and he flicked me a confused look as he left. I turned and surveyed the room properly; it was an interview chamber. There was a table and a few chairs in the room. On the table rested a menacing-looking set of tongs.

I made myself move further into the room and sit, as I heard the two guards out in the entrance talking in low voices. Frustratingly, I couldn't hear what they were saying. After a moment, the talking ceased, and I heard the sound of a chair being drawn back across the flagstones, and then approaching boots.

Sitting tall and pretending to inspect a speck of something on the table top, I turned up and smiled at the jailor in the doorway.

"You're friends with the Nord woman who assaulted our gate guard earlier today?" he asked bluntly.

I pretended to be taken aback, fluttering my eyelashes. "Am I to be interrogated like a common prisoner?" I asked him.

"Just answer the question," he rolled his eyes. "The Captain is already on his way. If you won't tell me, he'll _make_ you tell us who you really are."

 _Thank the Nine_ , I thought, relief flooding me. Captain Burd would settle the matter. All I had to do was wait.

"Good," I turned my eyes away from the guard, and it didn't take much effort to sound affronted. "I will answer only to the Captain," I told him.

"Suit yourself," the guard muttered, shaking his head and closing the door to the interview room behind him. I heard a loud, almost pointed _click_ as he locked me in.

What was going on in Bruma? Since when were the streets empty of an evening and the Guard so heavy-handed? I suddenly didn't doubt Caroline had hit one of them, if she'd had half the reception that I had.

I fumed as I waited, the minutes ticking by silently. It was not long until I heard the frantic clatter of boots descending stairs, and then Burd's voice echoed around the small entranceway.

"What have you idiots done?" he cried out.

I sighed with relief as I heard the jailor defend himself, saying something about following orders, as I heard their approach.

The lock clicked and the door was opened, and there stood Captain Burd, his armour still streaked with the dust and blood from our journey through Oblivion, though his face and hands were cleaner. The jailor stood behind him; peered over his shoulder.

I blinked up at him, from my seat behind the interview table. "Good evening, Captain," I murmured, unimpressed.

He shook his head at the jailor and shoved the key to the room toward the man. "Release the Lady's bodyguard immediately," he instructed.

I hid as smirk as I saw the look of apprehension cross the jailor's features. "Captain Burd, she was given a sleep draught, she won't wake until morning-"

"Then you carry her!" Captain Burd snarled, cutting the man off.

The jailor left us and I stood, my expression calm, as Captain Burd hurried into the room.

"My apologies for the over-zealousness of the Guard, my Lady," he offered his hand to me.

I stared at it and didn't take it. "Captain Burd, explain to me why the Bruma guard were so eager to lock me up?" I turned up to look at him. "I committed no crime."

"It's those damned spies," Burd said explosively, shaking his head and lowering his hand. "The Blades swept into Bruma and exposed two Mythic Dawn spies that had infiltrated our ranks, then left us to clean up the mess they made."

I couldn't help but narrow my eyes at him, though it explained what had happened in Bruma to make everybody so suspicious. "Are you telling me that the spies uncovered were posing as _Bruma guards_?"

"They were," he said wearily. "And, I _am_ grateful for the Blade's assistance. Of course I'm grateful, we all are," he added. "It is just...that we failed to realise, for so long," he offered. "Many of the Guard have not yet recovered from the embarrassment," he admitted, with a grimace.

"What's done is done," I stepped around the table, making for the door, which Captain Burd stepped aside and held open to allow me through. I scanned the dungeon entry, but the jailor had not returned with Caroline yet.

I turned back to the Captain. He looked to be stuck somewhere between mortified, and furious.

I frowned. He was a good man, a good Captain. We had fought side by side. After the day he'd had – losing a significantly sized unit to the daedra, nearly dying in Oblivion, fighting his way out with only me and a handful of arrows to help him, and now this? Bad day was an understatement.

"I meant what I said," I told him, in a kinder voice. "I shall not dwell on it, if you don't. What's done is done."

"That it is," he muttered.

He opened his mouth to speak again but we were interrupted by the sounds of a crash. We both turned towards it in time to hear a curse from the jailor, and another crashing sound.

Captain Burd excused himself and muttered a curse of his own as he walked toward the cells.

Hoping that the jailor had not _dropped_ Caroline into something, I waited. Soon enough the Captain and the jailor emerged from a cell, carrying Caroline upright between them.

"-you not recognise this woman as one of the Blades who was in the city mere _days_ ago, man?" Burd was asking him, strain in his voice.

"She did not look like herself when she was brought in," the jailor replied, wheezing.

I hurried forward, taking the jailor's place and resting Caroline's arm around my shoulder. "Thank you, we can manage her from here," I told him curtly.

"My Lady-" the jailor stuttered, moving forward.

"She said to leave it," Captain Burd cut him off. "Now, go open the door for us."

The jailor nodded, and stumbled off. I gave Captain Burd a withering look, but he just shook his head helplessly, and said that a room was being prepared for us, up in the castle.

I glanced up at Caroline's ashen face. Her hair fell forward, obscuring most of her features but she looked to be all in one piece, and she no longer wore the blood-soaked clothing I'd last seen her in. Instead, she was wearing the rough, fitted tunic and leggings of a prisoner. I turned away from her as, with a jolt, I remembered her handing me similar clothing, on the day the Emperor and his sons had been murdered. It felt like such a long time ago, now. So much had happened, had changed forever, since that day.

We walked slowly, Caroline's arms draped around our shoulders, her feet dragging on the flagstones. I could feel that Burd was taking most of her weight on his shoulders, and was glad for it, particularly when we passed the red-faced and silent jailor at the doorway.

"I will see you when you finish your shift," the Captain told him sternly, as we shuffled past.

I didn't look for the jailor's reaction, concentrating on keeping my grip on Caroline, but after the door had closed behind us and we were in the long, windowless hallway again, Captain Burd spoke.

"If you would permit it, my Lady, I can carry her from here," he stopped, shuffling Caroline between us.

I nodded and thanked him, and eased Caroline into Captain Burd's arms, realising that I had probably been more of a hinderance, than a help. In a moment, he had lifted her up in front of him, his arms supporting her knees and her upper back.

With the weight off my shoulders, I realised how weary I was, and that Captain Burd must feel this way too, for he hadn't rested since Oblivion either. As we walked, faster now, I asked the Captain if he had relayed my message to the Countess.

"I did," he replied, casting me a glance. "I am sorry I didn't realise who you were, in the deadlands, when you told me your name. And, In truth, I though the tales of a noble lass being the Hero of Kvatch a myth," his eyes shone a little, as he added. "But, I have seen you storm through Oblivion with my own eyes now, and will never doubt you again, my Lady."

My cheeks flushed, and I felt cheered, but mildly embarrassed, by his praise. I waved his apology away; I'd only given him my first name, and I had looked like a Nord – how was he supposed to have known who I was?

"Stop apologising, Captain," I said with a smile. "Caroline and I meant to not be recoginsed."

"Caroline," the Captain glanced down at the Blade in his arms now, with another frown. "I do not want to be anywhere near your room when she wakes," he muttered, with a shake to his head.

I didn't doubt that Caroline would be furious when she woke, but Burd couldn't change what had happened and was hardly to blame. And despite anything that had occurred at the Bruma entry gate, I wanted to know why she had resorted to assaulting a guard. I figured that questioning her about a course of action which could have _only_ lead to her arrest might mollify her.

I opened a door at the end of the hallway, and we entered a grand hall. Enormous stone columns rose on square plinths, flanked by tall yellow banners bearing the black bird of Bruma, stretching up to the heavily carved and arching grey stone roof. The flagstones on the floor were polished so they shined, and a lavish yellow rug, edged in deep red, ran down the centre of the enormous room. At the end of it, as we passed over the rug, I could see a stone staircase, leading up to a throne that was empty and largely in shadow. Arched doorways encircled the room, which showed an inner hallway and more doorways, that lead deeper into the castle's many rooms, I figured. Burd headed toward one of these, still cradling Caroline as though she was his bride.

I fell into step beside him again, as I heard the quick patter of approaching, heeled foot steps. As we turned through one of the stone archways, I saw a flicker of torchlight, then saw a stern-looking Breton woman perhaps in her late-forties hurrying to meet us. She was clad in a beautiful but simple green velvet dress, and her auburn hair was curled but pinned back severely, which made the angles of her face sharper than they would have otherwise been.

"Lady Passero, it is my pleasure to greet you, and welcome to Castle Bruma," she curtsied as she reached us, and Burd and I drew to a halt.

I nodded back the required curtsy, and she raised her head, her eyes flickering over my appearance with a hint of concern. "I am Yvara, the Countess' private steward, and she bade me attend on you this evening, while your handmaiden is otherwise..." she trailed off, looking even more uncertain as she stared at the unconscious Caroline in the Captain's arms.

"Yvara, thank you," I broke in after a pregnant silence. "Please, lead on," I indicated that we continue. The woman faltered for only a moment longer, before smiling hesitantly and turning to one of the many doors in the open hallway.

She drew a key out of her pocket and unlocked the door. "The Countess is eager to meet with you and discuss your message from the Grandmaster of the Blades," she spoke. "However it is late, and from what Captain Burd told us of your adventures today," she opened the door, and held her hand out for us to proceed before her, "you could use some rest."

"Thank you," I stepped past her, into yet _another_ hallway. Castle Bruma was a labyrinth. I sighed, then covered the sigh with a smile. "Yes, it has been a very long day."

"I can only imagine," Yvara replied courteously, and took the lead again. We passed a number of doorways that all looked the same, before she spoke up again.

"Here we are," she stopped, turning a door handle and I was grateful to see that this door _wasn't_ locked. I didn't much feel like being locked into anywhere again. Not that I could wander off, exactly; I was likely to get lost in the sameness of the castle corridors.

I stepped into a room that was about the size of Martin's room at Cloud Ruler Temple, only this room was very grey, with little adornment. The walls were hung with some cheap-looking tapestries; a long table and single chair were at the far side of the room, next to a low dresser. The main bed was in the middle of the room, but pushed to the wall, and tall, black candelabras with thin white candles provided the only light. Another smaller bed had been set up, closer to the door we had entered through, and Captain Burd proceeded to lay Caroline down on it.

 _A bleak room, in a bleak castle_ , I thought miserably, then wanted to pinch myself for being such a snob, and reasoned that it was my fatigue making me so dismal.

"Please thank the Countess for accommodating us so beautifully," I smiled at Yvara, the muscles in my face aching from all of the enforced smiling I had been doing. "Could I trouble you for some food, and water to bathe?" I indicated my sorry state.

Yvara seemed more amiable now, and indicated a door on the far side of the room, which I hadn't noticed during my brief inspection. "There is a bathing chamber through that door, and the water is always ready," she must have noticed how my eyes lit up, for the corner of her lip curled up in the first attempt I had seen at a smile from the woman. "And I will see that something is brought from the kitchens at once, if there is nothing else?"

I shook my head, dismissing her. "No, thank you."

She bowed politely and left.

Captain Burd turned back to me. "You will be safe in the Castle, even with Caroline unconscious," he assured me.

I shook my head, looking down at my poor bodyguard, not wanting to remind him that only days ago, it wouldn't have been safe here, what with Mythic Dawn agents in their ranks. "What did they give her?" I asked.

"I don't know," Captain Burd said gruffly, clearly frustrated at his Guard.

I sighed, longing to retreat to the bathing chamber. "Get some rest, Captain," I told him. "You have earned it," I smiled wearily at him.

The Captain said good bye, and that he would question his guards further on the morrow about what had happened with Caroline, before he left.

Closing the door behind him, my gaze returned to Caroline's sleeping form, and I shook my head at the alarming, terrifying day. I wished that I could crash into bed and sleep, but I could smell myself in the stark cleanliness of the room.

I hastened to the bathing chamber, opening the door wide. A damp steam from within wafted over me, and I stepped into the room, revelling in the warmth.

There was a stone pool set into the floor, full of steaming water, though I couldn't see any pipes or taps leading into the room. Perhaps it was being fed by a thermal hot spring, under the castle?

I stripped off my layers, noticing towels and soaps lying on a shelf built into the wall. Without ceremony, I eased myself into bath, wincing as the hot and slightly salty liquid immediately found every cut and graze on my body. I closed my eyes as I ducked under, weathering the stinging sensation by telling myself that the hot water would help me heal. After I had grown used to the heat, I scrubbed myself pink and washed my hair several times.

And then I lingered. I sat back in the water, splaying my hands across the top of it and flexing my fingers through the warmth as my muscles unknotted aches I hadn't realised were there until I had stopped for long enough.

I couldn't help but smile now that we were both safe, as the water eased me, at the predicament my bodyguard had found herself in when she had tried to call the Bruma guard to action. The disguises that had been cast to protect us had worked against her, and it must have been infuriating, considering that she had just watched me walk into the jaws of Oblivion. So much could have gone wrong when we had departed Cloud Ruler Temple that morning, and we had not anticipated any of what had eventuated. It made me want to laugh out loud, at the sheer madness of the day, and that we were both still alive.

I lay back, looking to the vaulted ceiling of the bathing chamber, but not really seeing it, as I let my thoughts drift and wander where they would, grateful for this moment of blissful down time and determined not to waste it worrying about the future, or mulling over what had already passed. For a moment, I allowed myself to think about Martin; what he might be doing now, whether he had had any more luck with the final portion of the _Xarxes_ translation that we needed. With a pang I realised that we hadn't been separated for even a day. We had been spending every day together, for weeks now, decoding the _Xarxes_ and training with Caroline. It was an odd thing, I thought in the idleness of the bathing chamber, to be together in a routine for so long, and then so swiftly separated. A memory of the blazing kiss he had given me that morning rose in my thoughts, sending a thrill through me. Again I wondered; if I had stayed, not only in his room, but in his arms - what might have happened?

 _Nothing_ , I told myself with some sternness. _He would not have kissed that way if you hadn't told him you were leaving. He was trying to make you stay with him._

I steadied myself, knowing that despite the endearment we felt for one another, I was right. Martin was too measured; he wasn't the sort of man to rush into anything, unless he felt he had been backed into a corner. At least, that was what I had seen of him, in the time we had gotten to know one another.

 _Which isn't long enough to be having such thoughts_ , I reminded myself. I pushed the memory of Martin's kiss - and my own response to his fierce embrace - away resolutely and focused on something - anything - else, to distract me.

Roses. I could smell roses. The soaps I had used earlier had been rose-scented, and the smell reminded me of the brambles that grew on the walls of Rosethorn Hall. Thinking of my family estate, for it had not truly felt like my home for a long time, I reminded myself to track down Eyja, if there was time, as her mother lived in Bruma and I'd instructed her to wait here for word that it was safe for her to return. Surely it would be safe for her to do so now, since the Mythic Dawn believed me to be at Cloud Ruler Temple.

Inevitably, my thoughts sobered at the memory of the letter Captain Steffan had retrieved detailing the Mythic Dawn's plans. I sat up, squeezing the water out of my hair and turning my eyes up to the high, open window in the bathing chamber. Too high for anybody to climb in through. What would the Mythic Dawn do if they knew I was here, now; alone, unarmed, and undefended? Ruma Camoran's letter had suggested that they wanted to _retrieve_ me, not kill me. But her father...Mankar Camoran, he had suggested...

" _Even as you strive to hinder us you do His work and seal the priest's fate."_

The memory of his words during my ascent from Oblivion wove through me again, and I bit my bottom lip, wondering what he could have meant, as I lowered my gaze to the steam rising off the pool of water.

Had he been truthful? How could he have been? It didn't make any sense; why did the Dawn want to capture me, if I was apparently doing what Mehrunes Dagon wanted me to anyway?

I didn't have the answer, and the joyful serenity of the bath seeped out of me as I sighed. I rose, towelled myself off then wrapped the towel around me, leaving the dirty clothing in the corner of the room.

Caroline was still soundly asleep when I entered our room, closing the door behind me and smiling gratefully at the tray of food on the long table close to the bathing chamber door.

I dressed in a long, warm woollen night dress I found in the dresser, wondering when I would next get to wear my own clothes. I had noticed, as I had searched through the dresser, that there were several other finer garments in it, that I resolved to investigate later. I didn't doubt that there would be something suitable within to address the Countess in tomorrow.

 _Tomorrow_ , I thought, wearily, with a sigh, as I sat at the table and ate the meal that had been brought for me. The soup was thick and hearty, and the bread soft and springy, and while it was delicious, I ate automatically, and in silence; my mind on the task ahead of me.

I had no doubts in my mind that the Countess would agree with Jauffre's request that she ask the other counties for aid. With the devastation that had taken place outside of the gate today, and the recent uncovering of spies in their ranks, it was clear that the Bruma guard could use all the help it could get. But how would the Countess request armies from all over Cyrodiil without attracting attention, and even if she managed to, how could Bruma accommodate such a force without arousing further suspicion?

I shook my head, finishing my meal, unable to see a way. As soon as the Mythic Dawn realised that the reason so many troops were rallying was to prevent them from opening the Great Gate, I feared Bruma would be inundated with lesser gates.

 _She will find a way,_ I told myself in an attempt to settle my anxiety, as I rose from the table and went to bed. While I was desperate to sleep, I was gnawing on the problem, and I knew it wouldn't let me rest until I resolved it. _Your task is to deliver the message, not facilitate it._

I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, it was day, and I was being woken by Caroline.


	26. Ever the Messenger

"Caroline, what is it?" I sat up hurriedly, a haze of sleep and an aching headache making me feel as though I was looking at my bodyguard from under water.

In the early light of day, which was filtering through a high, angled window, I could see the hint of a bruise on Caroline's cheek.

 _Probably from when the Bruma jailor dropped her_ , I told myself through the haze; the memory of the previous night wavering like a watery dream.

"I am sorry to have to wake you," she said in a quiet voice. "But the steward said he would return for us within the hour. It's nearly time to go."

She leaned back from me, and I noticed that she was clean, and dressed in an ensemble of fitted, light leathers and fine blue cloth. Her hair was pulled back into a loose plaited bun.

I blinked, a wooziness making my head spin. "Go where?" I asked dumbly.

"To breakfast, with the Countess," Caroline strode to the dresser, and I watched as she assembled something for me to wear.

I groaned, pressing my palm to my forehead. I knew that I had slept, but I did not feel refreshed at all. If at all possible, I thought I felt more tired than I had the previous day.

"My Lady?" Caroline asked from across the room. I turned toward her, still sitting in bed. She was holding a few items of clothing, and looked concerned, but as efficient and ready as ever.

 _Well, she had a lot more sleep, didn't she_ , I reasoned bitterly. Not that she'd had a lot of choice in the matter.

Remembering why she had been given the sleep draught, the sleep haze dissipated and I felt my eyes widen. "Caroline – they told me that you assaulted the city guards on the Bruma gate. What happened?" I asked hurriedly.

Now it was Caroline's turn to groan and she turned away, putting the clothes down on top of the dresser. "Please, don't remind me," she muttered, as she started to assemble some things to do my hair with; brush, a small tin of hair pins, and a snood.

I climbed out of bed and padded across the flagstones to her; they were icy cold, which made me feel more awake, suddenly. "I don't think so," I said to her, somewhat crossly. She wasn't getting out of an explanation that easily, and I was a little grumpy at her for waking me, despite her having little choice in the matter.

She gave me an apologetic look. "Dress first, my Lady, and I'll explain while I do your hair."

I lifted the night dress over my head. Caroline had gathered me a long white shift, and then a long dress of blue that had been embroidered with gold and bronze leaf designs on the bodice. It was made of tightly-woven cotton, with short sleeves and a scoop neckline. The ties for the waist fastened at the front with a series of criss-crossing blue ribbons. Once the ribbons were tied in a bow, I felt like a child, and couldn't help but pout at my reflection as I sat at the dresser. The dress fit, but it was too young for me.

Caroline started brushing my hair straight away, her eyes on her task, and I waited, staring at her reflection in the mirror.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" I prompted, after a moment's silence.

Caroline glanced at me in the mirror then, and her lips tightened into a straight line. She put the brush down and began deftly sectioning my hair. "It was an accident."

I huffed a laugh at her. "You _accidentally_ attacked a Bruma guard?"

"Sit still, my Lady," she held my shoulders, looking critically at the back of my head, biting her bottom lip.

I squared my shoulders and sat, watching and waiting for her to continue. She put most my of hair into the snood, which was made of thin strands of golden thread, then pinned it into place.

"You have to see it from my perspective," she said, as she started to weave and pin the top section of my hair into braids, that encircled the snood to cover the pins that held it in place. She frowned at her work, and undid one of the braids a little, re-working it. "I had assumed that the Bruma guard would respond as they had to our presence in the city a few day ago, during the spies debacle," she sighed. "But of course, they didn't recognise me, and I wasn't dressed as a Blade despite how I insisted to them that I was. First, they assumed I was a madwoman necromancer, because I was still covered in blood," she muttered, putting a couple of the hair pins between her teeth as she used both of her hands to twist another section of my hair into place.

"Then, after I told them what had happened at the Oblivion gate, they grew even more suspicious," her voice darkened. "They tried to arrest me, insisting that I was an agent of the Mythic Dawn, trying to trap them. They didn't believe that their comrades were dead," she patted my hair down, and stepped back to assess her handiwork.

I turned my head from side to side, inspecting my hair as well, though said nothing because it didn't feel as though Caroline had finished telling me her story. The hair style did suit the dress, but again, I wondered if it made me look too young. A simple braid or bun would have sufficed.

The memory of Martin reaching out and tucking my hair behind my ear, telling me that he thought it looked lovely, loose and down, swam into my thoughts and clouded them. I flushed, as I wondered what he would think of me in all of this pretty finery? Would he bow and smile that small half-smile he adopted when he was amused, eyes shining and manner teasing as he saw further evidence of my stature, just as he had been at Rosethorn Hall when he'd discovered I was noble?

 _Probably,_ I thought. I wanted to laugh, looking at myself, too, after everything that had happened since I'd fled the White-Gold Tower. As a bittersweet afterthought, I realised that I missed Martin's smile, and it had only been a day since I had last seen him.

Unaware of my inner musings, Caroline put her hands on her hips, and nodded. "There, you look beautiful. We had better go," she turned away.

"Where are you going?" I asked quickly, turning in the chair to face her. "You said that the steward was going to return for us?" I reminded her, raising an eyebrow.

Caroline sighed, faltering. "I did, didn't I?"

"So, while we wait," I stood, moving toward her and indicating the single chair at the long table, "you can finish telling me what happened yesterday. Please, sit."

She turned back, giving me a more imploring look, then reluctantly took the seat when my expression didn't falter.

"All right," she said uncertainly. "I'm not proud of what happened, but it _was_ an accident, as I told you," she insisted.

"I believe you," I assured her steadily. "But I would still like to hear of it from you."

Caroline sighed, and nodded, her eyes drifting to the table before her, though she seemed to stare at nothing.

"When they tried to arrest me, all I could think of was how you had stepped fearlessly into that Oblivion gate," she muttered, to the table. "And that if they took me for questioning, as seemed to be their intention, I would have to wait until the Alteration spell wore off, until I was myself again, before I could convince them to send soldiers to help you," she looked up to me then, and I saw concern in her eyes. "When I saw that they _did_ intend to restrain me, I tried to run. I thought for a moment that I could run back and follow you into the gate, as I should have done to start with. But," she rolled her eyes, "my attempt to escape, of course, was evidence enough to the jumpy brutes that I _was_ guilty of whatever they accused me of. There was a fracas, and during it, I hit one of them," she shrugged. "After that I think they must have knocked me out, because the next thing I knew, I was in a cell, and there was a priest healing me."

"Cirroc," I murmured, remembering that the man at the Chapel had told me he'd treated her. "And you let him give you a sleep draught?" I queried, leaning against the table and frowning. "Whyever did you agree to drink it?"

"I didn't," Caroline groaned again, and I could see that the retelling was more embarrassing than painful, for her. She leaned down and placed her forehead on the table wearily. "He told me it was a special stamina potion that would help me to heal faster. I should have known he was lying but I didn't think I had any reason to doubt a _priest_."

I could tell from her tone, and posture, that she felt ashamed that she had been overcome at the gate. I was surprised that she had, because Blades were generally so guarded, so measured, though I couldn't blame her after the way the Bruma guards had treated me.

And, her story complete, I couldn't help but let a small laugh escape my lips.

Caroline looked up at the sound and frowned at me. "My Lady, it's not funny."

"It is a _little_ funny," I tried to suppress my smile but found I couldn't.

Caroline looked more cross. "You could have been dead, or worse – captured and then who knows what – and I wasn't able to do _anything_ to help you."

"I was fine," I waved her unnecessary concern away. "I found the Captain, inside the gate, and obviously, we made it out," I pushed my amusement down finally.

"But I didn't know that – you just _left_ me-!"

"I am sorry for worrying you," I cut in quietly, frowning that I had caused her some unnecessary pain. "But after _you_ nearly died, beside the Oblivion gate," I said pointedly. "I wasn't going to stand by and let it happen. I made a promise to carry out what the late Emperor foresaw."

Caroline stared at me, conflict in her eyes but her shoulders were lowered and she nodded in a somewhat sad, defeated manner. "It does not seem right or fair, my Lady, that you of all people should bear this impossible task."

I sighed, turning toward the doorway as I heard the approach of footsteps. "I do not bear it alone," I told her, moving toward the door, a part of me dreading the day where I might have to enter and battle through Oblivion alone. "I am just not going to run and hide from it any longer."

Within a few steps, Caroline was by my side, and we had nearly crossed the room by the time the door was opened by a Nord man with stringy brown hair, wearing an expensive-looking quilted doublet over more common tan and white clothing.

He seemed startled to see us approaching him, but then a stiff smile that didn't reach his eyes graced his features and he bowed low.

"Lady Passero, good morning to you. My name is Tolgen, and I am one of Countess Carvain's stewards," he introduced himself. "I am to escort you to the dining hall," he told us.

I dipped a polite curtsy automatically and stopped, stepping into on a pair of blue slippers that Caroline had laid out by the door for me. I wondered where Yvara was, and just how many stewards the Countess needed. "Good morning, Tolgen. Lead the way."

The man lead us down more identical corridors, all grey stone and closed wooden doors. There were a few more high, angled windows at intervals that allowed sunlight into the fortress, which gave the wall and floor in places a more washed-out lustre. Though I tried to remember where we had gone and which direction we had turned at corners, so that I might find my way back to our room, between the sameness of the hallways and the dazzlingly bright light at intervals, I realised that I would become hopelessly lost if I attempted to traverse the hallways of Castle Bruma without somebody who knew them. Given the fortress-style of the Castle, I had no doubts that this was intentional.

Tolgen lead and Caroline stayed several paces behind me, her soft boots making little noise on the polished stone.

Soon enough we entered the great, cavernous hall that we'd crossed the previous night, and looking up into the centre of the room, while I could see that the throne was still empty, it was now brightly lit, by both sunlight that must have been coming in from a very high window directly above it, and more of the thin white candles, like those in my room. The hall was still largely empty of people, with only a few Bruma guards positioned at intervals along it, standing silently to attention.

We crossed to the opposite side of the room and I was surprised that when Tolgen opened the next door, he didn't lead us into another identical grey hallway. He simply held back the door for me and bowed, so I would enter. I stepped through into the dining hall, with Caroline stepping through after me.

Countess Narina Carvain sat alone at an enormous, polished wood table, with Yvara standing close behind her chair. Both looked up to me expectantly as we entered, and I heard the door click shut behind me as I dipped low, waiting for her to greet me.

Caroline had bowed next to me, and I could almost feel the agitation coming off her like a wave of heat. I smiled. While we had lived at the White-Gold Tower, Caroline had always instructed me that we needed to maintain the rituals and pleasantries required of our statures despite the situation that called for them. But it seemed to me that right at that moment, my bodyguard was eager for us to just get on with what had to be done.

"Don't you know how to make an entrance, Lady Passero?" Countess Carvain spoke, and that was my cue to rise. I looked up to the Countess, still smiling, as there had been a trace of amusement in her otherwise sharp tone. With a flush, I realised that the Captain had likely relayed everything that had taken place the previous day; from the Oblivion gate, to my adventure to her castle dungeons in search of Caroline.

"Countess Carvain," I greeted, moving forward as she indicated that I sit opposite her. "Thank you for welcoming us in such difficult and strange circumstances."

The Countess had already started her breakfast, and nodded as she took another small mouthful, while I sat. Caroline shifted my chair in as I did, then busied herself adjusting the fall of my skirts around me so the dress wouldn't crumple.

The Countess was wearing a burgundy velvet dress, edged in gold lace, and offset by a silky blue-green underlay that showed in sections along the arms, where the velvet was split. Her chestnut curls were glossy and loose around her shoulders, but fastened with two delicate golden combs set with diamonds that rested above each ear. I searched my mind for information about the Countess to assist me with our meeting, remembering that she was in her thirties, but the way she had fastened her hair, and a certain plumpness to her features, made her appear younger than that. Perhaps the dress I wore now had once been hers.

Breakfast was placed in front of me; a bowl of cooked, softly whipped eggs, and the Countess bade me to dispense with the pleasantries and eat. I tried to remember the last time I had seen the Countess of Bruma, prior to the Elder Council address, as I had not lingered to speak to anybody afterwards. I knew that I must have, but found that I couldn't remember a specific time.

But I did remember the Countess by nature. She was sharp, with a keen sense for knowing when anybody was wasting her time. So I would ensure that I didn't.

I took a mouthful of the food, which was delicious, but then got to business. "Countess, I hope you will forgive if I come straight to the point, as time is our enemy," I began.

I noticed her eyes flash with an appreciative alertness. "Please, go right ahead," she sat back a little, still smiling. "I am assuming that your message will have something to do with the spies unearthed in Bruma three days ago?"

"Yes, and the plans that were uncovered during the operation," I nodded. I placed my fork down on the table and told the Countess about the letter that had been recovered; that they wanted to raze Bruma in order to attack Cloud Ruler Temple and kill the last Septim. I left off the information about their plan to retrieve me, seeing it as irrelevant to my current task.

If the Countess had felt any genuine amusement before now, as her tone had been conveying since I entered the dining hall, there was no trace of it left by the time I finished relaying to her what the spies orders had uncovered.

"Bruma must be evacuated," she concluded immediately in her strong, steady voice.

I shook my head. "I'm sorry, but Jauffre believes that should the Dawn realise we know what they plan, it will force them to hasten those plans. Anybody evacuating will be caught in the cross-fire, and all will be lost."

The Countess looked aghast, but sounded just as determined. "Why do you bring me this message, if I am not meant to act on it?"

I adjusted myself so I was sitting a little straighter, and told her the rest of Jauffre's message; that he wished for her to request aid of the neighbouring counties, so that as new Oblivion gates sprung up as they attempted to build the three required for the Great gate, they could be swiftly dealt with.

Countess Carvain clearly didn't like what I was telling her, and I realised then that Jauffre _had_ been right; a Blade wouldn't have had _any_ chance in asking her to do what we needed her to do. She would have begun evacuating Bruma immediately.

Her manner had grown a little more guarded, and she held her head a little higher once she had taken in all I had to say.

"I understand," she said, with some coolness, though I could hardly blame her. "Though there must be a way to fulfil your request, and protect the people of Bruma."

I nodded, wanting to remind her that it wasn't _my_ request, but merely returned to my breakfast. Could there be a way to do both? The Dawn had their eyes on Cloud Ruler Temple, but they couldn't fail to notice if the city started to empty itself.

"I am sorry, for the loss of so many of your Guard yesterday," I spoke up again, wanting to remind the Countess that the fight was already happening on her doorstep.

She had been looking into her breakfast, but looked up as I spoke, her mind clearly working over the problem I had presented to her. The Countess' eyes ran over me with a hint of calculating disbelief, and I had the thought that she was wondering how I, a slight noble girl with ribbons on her dress and braids in her hair, had survived Oblivion, if so many of the Bruma guard had died the previous day.

"They had been overcome by daedra, before we reached them," I explained. "Though they had taken enough daedra with them for me to go after Captain Burd," I added, wondering where I was going with this train of conversation.

The Countess shook her head, the gold and diamond combs in her hair catching the light of the candles set into a dark candelabra on the table. "The Captain has told me of your exploits in the deadlands, Sarina," she frowned a little then. "I am more grateful than you could realise, that you happened upon the Gate on your way to me.

"Some of my peers, at the Elder Council meeting you addressed, thought that calling yourself the Hero of Kvatch was a joke, bred of vanity and privilege," she recalled, her voice lower than before, less fiery.

I was mortified at the idea that they had been laughing at me, particularly since Ocato had insisted I pander their sense of drama that day. "I assure you, Countess, I did not give the name to myself."

"Peace," she cast me a wry smile. "I said some of, not me."

I shifted a little uneasily again, and then told myself firmly to sit still and stop fidgeting like a child. Whatever the Elder Council _had_ thought of me that day, my message had been delivered to them as required and there was nothing I could do to change their opinion of me now. A part of me even wondered why I should care what they thought of me any more.

Countess Carvain continued. "I am a stranger to battle, but I am no stranger to careful planning and covert strategy, whatever Bruma thinks of me," she said with some determination.

 _That's right_ , I remembered some more of my store of knowledge about the Countess. The population of Bruma hadn't been impressed when she had been appointed ruler of their region, since they had hoped for a Nord to lead them, and she was Nibenese.

"And I am sure that between the two of us," she continued, "we will be able to determine a course that will see both of our needs met."

I nodded but noticed Caroline shifting uneasily in the corner of my eye, and turned back to her. "Caroline?"

Her eyes flickered to me, before she looked back at the Countess, bowing her head. "Forgive me, Countess, but we were to return to Cloud Ruler Temple at once, after delivering the Grandmaster's message to you."

That was news to me. I made sure I didn't react to Caroline's announcement, wondering why Jauffre hadn't seen fit to tell me this.

The Countess looked confused, and laughed a little. "But, surely you can't mean to leave Bruma today? You only just arrived, Sarina, and spent most of yesterday battling daedra," she said pointedly.

Caroline didn't speak again, and with her head still lowered, I couldn't pick up anything from her expression to guide my response.

I sighed – _damn Jauffre_! Why did he continue to keep crucial pieces of information about these quests of his from me?

"Of course, Countess," I smiled at her. "I will remain in Bruma for as long as I can be of service to you."

The Countess returned my smile. "Besides, we can't risk you being seen departing Bruma so soon after the closure of an Oblivion gate, can we?" she took a sip from a pewter goblet in front of her. "If there is any unusual travel, and if the Mythic Dawn are in the region, it would not be difficult for them to surmise what was happening, and hasten their plan, before aid could be requested and responded to."

I agreed with her, and wondered again why Jauffre had told Caroline to return with me to Cloud Ruler Temple at once. Perhaps he had simply wanted me to continue working on the _Xarxes_ translation with Martin.

The Countess asked Yvara to summon Captain Burd, and after she had left she turned back to me immediately, her mind still pouring over the options, it seemed.

With a certainty that made me wonder how any of Bruma had ever doubted her, she asked me, "If I am to ask the regions of Cyrodiil to send guards to Bruma, it stands to reason that I will have to send missives to the other Counts and Countesses as soon as possible?"

I shook my head. "Letters would be too easily intercepted," I told her, thinking of the spies letter that had lead to all of this. "It would be better to send messengers who can relay a message personally," I proposed.

"Yes, all right, either way," the Countess dismissed, and I realised that the means of sending the message wasn't what had prompted her question. "Citizens of Bruma will need to depart without arousing suspicion, and any aid returning to us will need to be discreet on their arrival," she held her hand out logically, as though the answer lay in her palm and was obvious.

I nodded wishing I could see what she had figured out. It was said that the Countess had a very quick, brilliant mind, and I had the sudden notion that she would have made a much better Hero of Kvatch than I did. But then, there were _many_ who would have been better suited to battling through Oblivion than I.

"Then it is simple," she seemed relieved, all of a sudden, almost laughing at some inner realisation. "Unusual travel or mass exodus from Bruma would be noticed, so it must appear as though any and all travelling to and from the region are going about ordinary, daily business. As farmers," she said pointedly, raising her eyebrows.

I thought I saw what the Countess was getting at. "A messenger for each county, disguised as an every-day farmer? That could work," I nodded. It was probably the least risky way of going about it, at least.

The Countess shook her head. "No, Sarina not just a single messenger sent to each town. _Evacuees_ ," she stressed. "Bruma could be slowly, quietly evacuated. Farmer carts could carry citizens out of the city, and soldiers back in."

I drew in a gasp as I realised the brilliance of her plan. In truth I had forgotten about the need to get the soldiers back to Bruma unseen, and this was the solution. "Of course! Countess, that is perfect!"

She looked proud to have come up with the bones of a solution, and we discussed the idea further while we waited for Captain Burd to arrive; things like the frequency of farmers departing the region, and how many people we could logically hide in each farmer's cart; what produce we could use to disguise the true cargo. Upon returning with any soldiers pledged from the other regions, also hidden within produce carts, the soldiers would be able to house themselves in the already evacuated families homes, so at first glance Bruma would not look as though it was slowly becoming deserted of any who couldn't fight.

We were discussing whether or not we could increase the number of produce carts leaving Bruma plausibly, when Captain Burd was shown into the dining room and announced by Yvara.

I turned in my seat to smile hello to him, and was taken aback by the somewhat unguarded look of devotion that crossed Captain Burd's eyes as he bowed to the Countess, though I masked my reaction with the smile. Perhaps not all of Bruma were so against her as the rumours suggested. The look on the Captain's face was gone as quickly as it had appeared and I shook my head at my musings. Of course the Captain of the Bruma Guard would trust his Countess.

"Captain Burd, please, sit," the Countess said formally, and motioned a chair close to her.

I wondered at her suddenly formal manner as I finished my breakfast, and the Countess explained to the Captain everything that had been discussed already; from my message, to the potential to evacuate Bruma and house an army of soldiers under the Mythic Dawn's noses.

The Captain agreed with her plan very quickly, and shortly they fell to discussing who might carry the message to each of the regions, assembling a list of their most trusted people.

I watched them, curiously wondering why I had not been dismissed. It was clear that the Countess no longer had need of me; she and the Captain seemed to be absorbed in their plans. Caroline shuffled beside me, and I could tell she was wondering why we were still there, too.

In the lull where nothing was immediately required of me, I began to wonder, again, why Jauffre had wanted me to return immediately to Cloud Ruler Temple after delivering the message, and what I would do in Castle Bruma, if the Countess didn't want me to leave yet. Perhaps I would get to visit Eyja after all.

 _You are not on a social visit_ , I reminded myself with a mental shove. _You are here at the request of the Countess to assist in planning an evacuation and assemble and army._

The Countess and Captain Burd were not making much progress with their list of trusted messengers, deciding upon who might be sent where, until one or the other brought up some reason why the person couldn't be sent. I tuned back into their conversation when I heard them discussing Skingrad, and the reclusive Count Hassildor.

"It does not matter who we send," the Countess was saying. "Janus will not admit anybody. All decisions fall to his steward, these days," she waved her hand dismissively.

"A steward will not have the authority to send the Skingrad Guard out of the region," Captain Burd said reasonably. "It will be an unnecessary risk to trust that your message will be passed from person to person, hoping that it makes its way to the Count's ears eventually and that he might respond."

"It is highly likely that once any Count or Countess has decided to send soldiers, others in the region will notice their moving," the Countess countered. "I just don't think it matters who is sent to Skingrad. Who we _should_ worry about is who will request the Imperial Legion of the High Chancellor."

The Captain didn't look pleased about having his concern dismissed so blithely, but moved on in the discussion and suggested that he himself travel to the Imperial City to make the request to Ocato.

The Countess immediately forbade it, holding up her hand as the Captain opened his mouth to speak again. "No, Captain, I must insist that none of the remaining Guard are to leave the region, for we will have our hands full of daedra and gateways to Oblivion to deal with, if what Sarina has said of the Great Gates is true."

Captain Burd grimaced. "Countess, I do not believe that farmers and fleeing townsfolk will be able to impress upon anybody the urgency and needs of Bruma, or the future Emperor's plight," he said with some difficulty. "Least of all the High Chancellor."

I had to agree with the Captain, because his concern was exactly why I had been sent to Bruma instead of a Blade. "Countess, perhaps think of it this way," I spoke up. Her intelligent eyes turned towards me, a look of determination making her face seem harsher than it had before.

"Would you have responded well to a soldier arriving on your doorstep with the message I delivered to you?" I asked carefully.

The Countess considered the question for a moment, then turned back to Captain Burd, shaking her head. "I do not see what alternative we have. We are already short on guards and Oblivion gates will continue to open and need to be closed by _all_ of your number if we are to not lose any more of our own," she said, her voice carrying an imploring tone for the first time.

The Captain replied, talking about some local Mage and Fighters guild members who might carry the messages and have a better chance at convincing the leaders of each region of Bruma's great need.

But a weight settle on my shoulders, as the Captain spoke, and I watched the pair for a little longer, realising what conclusion they would inevitably come to.

I would need to deliver the message to the Counts and Countesses of Cyrodiil, requesting their aid. I would be heard, listened to, and my words would be acted upon. I would need to do it personally – and not at an Elder Council meeting this time, which would take time we didn't have to assemble.

It had been my task this entire time to offer myself as Martin's champion and diplomat, and Jauffre's messenger, presenting our needs in a manner which the nobles were accustomed to and would respond positively to.

Had Jauffre realised this? But of course, he must have. Had that been the reason for his guardedness when he had explained the initial task to me; convincing the Countess to request the aid in the first place?

Then why had Caroline said we were to return to Cloud Ruler Temple at once?

Deciding to not waste any more time, I stood. "Countess," I bowed my head. "The solution is simple, as you said," I used her words carefully, then met her eyes. "I will travel on behalf of you, to the counties of Cyrodiil, to request the aid required to protect Bruma, and those at Cloud Ruler Temple, including the future Emperor."

Caroline made an urgent sound behind me, which I ignored, and the Countess looked concerned, "I have already told you, Sarina, if the Dawn see you leaving Bruma, so soon after closing a gate, they will know that we know their plans and mean to stop them."

"Not if I am hidden on one of your farming carts," I countered, glancing at the Captain to see what he thought of this. I averted my eyes from him hastily, as I saw the same clouded devotion in his gaze that I had seen him cast toward his Countess when he had entered the room.

"Send a single person, to all of the counties?" the Countess asked doubtfully. "Would it not be faster to send many messengers, to each region simultaneously?"

"Faster, perhaps," I acknowledged, "but as Captain Burd said, how is a farmer, or a refugee, to convince a Count or Countess, or the High Chancellor, of what is needed, in a manner which they will respond to?" I pressed. "Again, I ask you – would you have responded as you have, with such haste, had a farmer presented my request to you?"

"I would have listened," the Countess said quietly, but in a way that told me she saw my point of view and wasn't proud to admit it.

"The risk of discovery is lessened, too, if only one knows the message to be relayed," I added to them both now, trying to convince myself that I was doing the right thing, and still pointedly ignoring Caroline, standing behind me. I could feel desperation flowing off her; that I stop talking and retract the offer, but I could not. Not if I had been serious about my vow, before the Oblivion gate the previous day. I was through with hiding out in castles while others fought battles for me.

I knew that the Captain would support my suggestion, too, given his words in the hallways outside of the dungeons the previous night – and the look of wonder I had seen on his face only moments ago. Which meant that it would not take much to convince the Countess of this course of action.

"I do not know why you would offer to put yourself in such danger," the Countess shook her head in disbelief. "If you are caught..." she trailed off.

"If the Dawn _do_ capture me, they will be preoccupied by who I am and not the message that I carry," I said delicately.

Caroline finally spoke up, stepping up beside me. "Lady Passero will not be alone," she said, in a tight voice. I inwardly cheered, for while I had been fairly certain Caroline would opt to come with me on my quest, I had not wanted to stop her from returning to Cloud Ruler Temple if Jauffre really _did_ have something else for her to attend to. "And I will die before I will let the Mythic Dawn get their hands on her," she swore.

"Hopefully it will not come to that," I added hurriedly.

And so it was agreed upon, and the plan to raise a defence for Bruma was set. Once the first farmer's cart was prepared, Caroline and I would be hidden along with a number of evacuees and we would make our way far west to Anvil, and then travel back to Kvatch to see if they could spare anybody. We would then continue east, to Skingrad, Chorrol, and the Imperial City, then south to Bravil and Leyawiin, and finally north along the far eastern roads of Cyrodiil to Cheydinhal.

The Countess bade me return to my room, after it was decided, so that Caroline and I could rest before we set out. She and the Captain remained in the dining hall, making further preparations, but I rose and left gratefully, suddenly feeling weary, as though her mentioning rest had reminded me that I hadn't felt recovered when I had been woken that morning.

As we retraced the hallways of castle Bruma, lead by Yvara, I had to admit that instead of feeling the fear that I would have ordinarily felt at the prospect of venturing out into a hostile Cyrodiil with an urgent message, I felt relieved. I was confident that I would be able to convince the nobles to send generous portions of their armies, and any soldiers that could be spared and forwarded to Bruma would help.

Caroline turned on me somewhat accusingly once Yvara had showed us to our room and closed the door behind her, but I held my hand up to her before she could speak.

"Don't," I told her, somewhat warningly. "You know that it must be done this way."

Caroline stared at me for a long moment, and her mouth drew into a straight line as she made her way to me, turned me around, then started unpinning my hair.

I relaxed as she worked; I had thought for a moment she would yell at me.

"You heard the Countess, my Lady," she muttered, as she slid the lower section of my hair out of the snood. "Rest now, for there will not be much rest for either of us, once we are on the road."


	27. Preparations

Rest didn't come easily, and in truth it was because I felt there would be little time for it, so I should not get too comfortable. Once I had been divested of the finery I had worn to breakfast, I wearily retreated to the bathing chamber at Caroline's suggestion, when I had told her that I was too tired to sleep, as though such a notion made sense.

From the privacy of the humid room and submerged to my neck in the water, I overheard the constant stream of visitors to our guest room, which Caroline dealt with swiftly yet with all the polite grace I remembered her having when we had lived at the White-Gold Tower.

When my life had been nothing more than dressing prettily each day, taking lessons, having tea with various members of court or my future husband, and our daily ride, to hunt or simply shoot targets at the Septim's archery range.

 _I will need a bow,_ I thought to myself suddenly, looking up to the doorway and wondering if I should get out of the bath and organise it before I forgot again. For too long now I had been without a decent bow and arrows, and had been making do with whatever had been cast aside or no longer needed by others. I couldn't continue to assume that these quests to have tea and talk to the nobles wouldn't involve elements of danger where it would be better if I were properly armed. I would be faster and more confident with a weapon that was made for me; properly balanced and honed.

I thought longingly of my favourite ebony bow, that I had left behind me with the rest of my former life. The gift from Ebel had been both a beautiful object, and an efficient weapon, lighter framed than other bows I'd used, smoothed and polished so it resembled black glass and cuffed with silver at each end. But there would be no time to commission a bow to be made for me; the most I could hope for was something a local smithy had in stock, and if I was lucky, it might be a little better than the standard-issue Bruma guard weapon.

Overhearing Caroline talking to somebody else in our room, I decided against getting out straight away. I lay my head back on the edge of the bath, closing my eyes and breathing the steam drifting above the bath water in deeply.

Thoughts of what lay ahead kept prodding at my calm, making it impossible to relax. If I had time to locate a suitable bow, perhaps I could purchase some armour at the same time? Would we need to be disguised again, before we left Bruma, despite being hidden in one of the produce carts? And what would the plan be, exactly, if we were discovered by the Mythic Dawn on the way to Anvil? Fight and risk the evacuees that travelled with us, or surrender, knowing that once caught, the Dawn were unlikely to let me slip through their fingers again?

Frustrated by my rampaging thoughts, I got out of the bath hurriedly, wrapping a towel around me as rivulets of water dripped down my legs.

I left wet footprints behind me as I padded across the flagstones and back into the guest room, as Caroline was closing the door on our latest visitor.

"Who was it this time?" I asked her, sitting at the dresser and picking up a comb, running it through my wet hair.

"Oh, my Lady," she seemed a little startled to see me, her reflection in the mirror in front of me drawing her hand to her chest in surprise. "That was fast."

She made her way to me, and knowing that she meant to take over combing my hair for me, I waved her away. For once, she allowed it, stopping by my side with questions in her eyes.

"I could not sit still," I told her with a frustrated sigh, braiding my hair loosely. I nodded to the bathing chamber. "Why don't you use it, while there is still time?" I secured the braid with a thin strip of cloth that had been laid out on the dresser for this purpose. "Perhaps you'll have more luck relaxing than I did."

Caroline huffed a laugh, and turned back to the door as there was another knock. "Unlikely," I heard her mutter, as she strode toward it.

I sat taller in the seat at the dresser, wondering why there had been so many visitors to our guest room, when in the reflection of the mirror I noticed an assortment of objects laid out on the table behind me - including what looked like _a decent bow_.

I turned swiftly and stood to inspect the items – all weapons, I discovered – as Caroline showed in a tall Nord girl who was carrying a tea tray. Caroline bade her to set it down on a small table near the door, but I was too distracted to notice what either of the women said to one another.

It was an _ebony_ bow. Not as fine as Ebel's gift, but then I doubted there was a finer bow in all of Cyrodiil. Still, this bow was _far_ more than I had hoped for. It was larger than I was used to, and carved along its length with swirling patterns. There was no fancy filigree capping the ends, and there was a lighter, rubbed-looking patch in the middle of its length, telling me the bow had been well-used. Wondering who had owned it, I picked it up, weighed it in my hand, then tested the tension of the drawstring. It would do me no good if it was so overused that it was no longer balanced.

"Where did this come from?" I asked her, marvelling at how much lighter the bow felt than the one I had recently used to battle through Oblivion, despite its size.

Caroline had shown the serving girl out, and was walking toward me. She waved her hand, indicating everything on the table before me. "This was Burd's doing. He must have sent for it as soon as we left the dining hall," she mused, picking up a short sword in its scabbard and unsheathing it to inspect the blade. "I think he feels guilty, after everything we went through yesterday," she added, almost in a mutter.

I wondered what she was looking for along the blade, as I lowered the bow. "That was very thoughtful of him," I admitted.

"He's a thoughtful man," Caroline replaced the short sword, and picked up a longer blade next, also staring down its length; for what, I still didn't know.

Shouldering the bow, I inspected the quivers laid out and decided on a simple dark grey one with two arm straps instead of one. It was full of steel-tipped arrows. "Yes, he seems to be," I remembered the look of devotion that had crossed his features when he had entered the dining hall, while greeting the Countess. Despite seeing a similar look directed at me from him later in our conversation when I had volunteered to travel Cyrodiil on behalf of Countess Carvain, I frowned, wondering now if there had been more than the devotion of a Captain to his Countess in his initial look.

But to what end would he so blithely display his feelings, if he had any? The Countess was famously unmarried, and rumour had it that she had turned down every noble suitor who had attempted to court her.

 _It is none of your business_ , I told myself, and returned to inspecting the arrows. Habit made me take in and idle over every small piece of information about the aristocracy that I happened upon, as I had done in the past, but I tried to remind myself that the lives and unions of the nobles were irrelevant to me until Tamriel was freed of the threat of Mehrunes Dagon breaking through into our world.

I tested the point on one of the arrows, then turned it to inspect the fletching. Yes, these arrows would do, I decided, until I could find a smithy who sold something lighter that would fly truer for me than steel. Perhaps when we reached Anvil, there would be time to find something.

Placing my chosen bow and quiver down on the dresser behind me, I asked, "How long do you suppose it will take to travel to all of the cities in Cyrodiil, Caroline?"

Caroline was still inspecting the weaponry on the table, and had picked up a heavy-looking bronze dagger. "If we have to travel on the back of a farmers cart under a load of peat the entire time, it'll take a good few days just to get to Anvil," she sounded unimpressed at the prospect. "And once we have figured out how we will travel next..." she shrugged, accepting the dagger and placing it away from the other weapons, "I'll be able to give you a better idea after Anvil."

"All right," I sat down at the seat in front of the dresser again, realising I was still only wearing a towel and, rolling my eyes at myself, rose again to find some clothes. "Let's assume that we will travel by horse," I proposed, as I dug out a large, simple tan-coloured shift made of soft cotton, and slipped into it. "If we plan to spend a night in each of the cities, to be safe," I turned back to Caroline. "And believe that we will be able to travel light and fast, on horseback, after Anvil. Then how long might it take?"

Caroline seemed to consider for a moment, then shook her head. "Why does this matter to you, my Lady?" she asked. "We have a task to complete, and it will take as long as it takes."

"I know," I stepped back up to the table, watching Caroline carefully. "I only wonder if Jauffre might mind that we are away from Cloud Ruler Temple for so long, if he wanted us to return as soon as the message was delivered to Countess Carvain. He might be wondering why it has taken us two days already."

Caroline didn't falter but she also didn't answer straight away, as she picked up a different sword, this one with a slight curve to the blade, and with a moments inspection, nodded and added it to her collection of acceptable weapons.

I waited, sensing now that there was more to it than a simple request, and finally, she looked up to me. Her eyes betrayed her hesitance, as much as her silence had, and nervousness began to wind its way through my belly.

"Jauffre didn't request us to return," she told me. "The Emperor did."

I crossed my brows; _that_ didn't make any sense. _I_ had been with Martin, told him what was happening, and then after some minor preparations in my bedroom, had met Caroline and Jauffre in his office. Surely, he'd not leaped out of bed and gone to Jauffre in the time I had been preparing, and left the office just as swiftly?

There was a lot I wanted to ask, but I only managed a confused, if not startled, "When?"

"Before you arrived," she sighed, sitting down at the table, staring at the weapons she'd chosen; the dagger and curved blade, a different short-sword to the first I'd seen her inspecting, a long bow, and brown quiver full of iron arrows. She glanced up, her eyes still guarded. "You must have only just left from telling him. He arrived, said that I was to return with you as soon as the message had been delivered, and then Jauffre bade him go to the library and work on the translation for the second key, and said he would speak with him after we had gone."

I was still wondering why Caroline seemed so wary, and nodded for her to continue. "What did Martin say, exactly?"

She paused again, and then there was a trace of a smile, at the corner of her mouth.

"It is probably best that you ask him, the next time you see him," she said finally, in a soft voice, then rose and headed toward the tea tray. "Shall I make you a cup-?"

"Caroline!" I all but shouted, and noticed a desperation in my voice that surprised even me. She turned back to look at me squarely.

"What were the Emperor's orders?" I asked, staring her down.

"Please, my Lady," she replied quickly. "He didn't order me. It was a request. It was nothing bad," she turned back to the tea tray, and began to pour some of the steaming liquid into a cup for me.

"It is only that his words were...somewhat personal, and you might rather they are told to you by him," she finished, her back to me still.

I flushed, as both relief and embarrassment flooded me, and again I remembered the way Martin had kissed me and asked me to stay the morning we had left. I sat again, not trusting my legs to hold me up any longer.

"He is going to be upset with me, then," I muttered, for I still intended on doing what I had promised the Countess, despite whatever Martin's request had entailed. Caroline had said it hadn't been an order, so at least there was that.

"No, he won't," Caroline turned back with a tea cup in hand and a small smile on her face, and walked over to place it in front of me on the table. "He adores you," she told me simply.

I stared at the tea cup, my flush doubling, wishing she would just tell me what he had said and at the same time, fearing to know what he _had_ said in front of Caroline and Jauffre. "Then he will be furious with you," I said tightly, to the tea cup.

Caroline shrugged, and gathered her weapons from the table, moving toward the corner of the room that her bed was in. "Go with and protect you, or leave you and return by myself to Cloud Ruler Temple. Do you think the he would be happier with me if I did the latter?"

I huffed a laugh that had no humour in it. She had a point, but I felt ill at the knowledge that to fulfil my task meant disappointing Martin. I suddenly wished that Caroline had lied and told me that Jauffre had been the one to order our return to Cloud Ruler Temple, as I had initially assumed, so that I could ride out of Bruma in defiance of instructions he had neglected to tell me.

Caroline was back by my side after a moment. "Do not worry so, my Lady," she said in a more encouraging tone. "Have some tea, and try to get some sleep. The Emperor will understand why you made the decision that you did. He will forgive you of anything."

I could only nod at Caroline's suggestion to rest, and raised the tea cup to my lips. I had gone with a course of action that I believed would serve Martin's cause best. He would need to be able to continue on our work on the _Xarxes_ translation alone, for a little while.

I took another sip of tea. It was a strong, flowery brew, sweetened with honey. It warmed me with a slight buzzing, tingling sensation as I swallowed, which felt a little like a Healing spell. I closed my eyes, savouring the feeling, realising at the same time that the concern I felt wasn't only because I would disappoint Martin by going on this journey; it was because I would miss him. I would miss his kind eyes and smile, the way he talked aloud as he thought around a problem we had encountered in the translation; the way he held me close to him and the feel of his hand wound through my hair as he pressed his forehead to mine, asking me to stay with him once our battles were won.

I shuddered as I opened my eyes, telling myself that it wouldn't serve me well to dwell on him in that way, for the thoughts were too distracting and I needed all of my wits about me if we were to get through this.

Caroline had politely retreated to her side of the room again, and was assembling a small back pack of supplies.

I knew I should move to help her, but I suddenly felt utterly drained, despite the tea, so I sauntered to my bed and climbed under the covers, praying to the Divines that we would be ready for the journey ahead.

Later that day, after I had managed a few hours sleep, we were advised that the cart would be ready to take us just before dawn the next day. It would carry Caroline and I, plus four others, including the farmer who would drive us all the way to Anvil.

Though not quite renewed by the sleep, I felt more resolved, and more ready for what lay ahead. Clothing for the journey had been supplied – simple, common garments. When I had asked about armour, Caroline had shaken her head, saying that we could acquire something in Anvil, and that for leaving Bruma we had to stick to the Countess and Captain Burd's plan.

"But we're taking enough weapons for a small army," I pointed out to Caroline, indicating my bow and arrows, and her plethora of weaponry, assembled next to the pack on her bed.

Caroline answered me by handing me a pair of dark brown trousers and a white long-sleeved tunic. "Our weapons will be hidden with us on the cart. If we're discovered and ordered to get out, we will look innocent enough, as long as you're not recognised."

"I suspect there's another Alteration spell in my future," I muttered, wondering whose face I would assume this departure.

Caroline nodded. "I would say so, at least to leave Bruma. The Countess has a mage in residence, but apparently he is quite volatile and has little skill in Alteration, so I would wager one of the local Mages' Guild will be present when we leave, to mask who you are."

After we had decided on what we would wear when we left Bruma, we were summoned for lunch with the Countess. I wasn't dressed for it, and I hurriedly threw on something appropriate from my guest closet and Caroline simply pinned my hair up into a loose bun. I still felt full from breakfast and morning tea, and thought frustratingly how life as a noble had so many superfluous sit-down meals. I had never questioned it before, and I reminded myself that I shouldn't get used to it again just yet, for this time tomorrow, we would be on the road to Anvil, disguised as refugees.

–

That night, after another formal meal where we discussed the final preparations for our departure from Bruma, Caroline and I retreated to the guest room and readied for bed, and I decided to write a letter to Martin.

I had reasoned to Caroline that it would not be long before Jauffre sent another Blade to Bruma, to find out what had become of us. When they returned to Cloud Ruler Temple with the news, it would be better if Martin knew that we were safe and had gone of our own choosing, and not been manipulated into a job that someone else could have done. Caroline hadn't been opposed to the idea, so I settled myself at the table with a quill, ink and parchment and wondered how I could explain everything in one short note.

 _You don't need to explain it all_ , I told myself, after I'd watched the ink drip out of the quill and onto the parchment before I'd written a single word. Captain Burd, who I intended on leaving the letter with, would relay the logistics of our task. I was writing to Martin for myself as much as him, so I would feel better about travelling away when I knew that he had wanted me to return straight away.

Did I need to be cryptic, in case the letter was lost or stolen, or read by the wrong person? Yes, I decided. It would probably be best if I was.

Could I be personal? Would the letter be delivered to Martin without being read? Did it matter, if anyone read it before Martin, since he had apparently decided to be openly personal about me to Jauffre and Caroline?

I wondered yet again what he had said, as another drop of ink slid out of the quill, marking the parchment I had intended to write on. I laughed at myself, shaking my head and putting the now twice-spattered sheet aside. If I kept on like this, the letter would never be written.

I wrote from the heart, reasoning that I could always re-write it if it didn't sound right once it was down.

_I make this journey in the hope that it will advance our position more swiftly, for the same reason that it was I who travelled away from you to begin with._

_My heart laments that you may be upset by my decision, but know that I believe my inclusion in these matters to be unavoidable if we are to succeed. I hope that, by the time I return, you feel the same._

I paused, then re-inked the quill idly. _Anything you write will be conspicuous_ , I thought dryly, as I grimaced at my words. If the Mythic Dawn did find such a letter on a Blade, I doubted that they would be able to work out what we were planning from my deliberate vagueness. It then pleased me, somewhat, to think that if they _did_ end up in possession of the letter, they would read it knowing that I had written this way for them, and that they'd likely drive themselves mad wondering if the note was a diversion.

Deciding that the letter would do, I worried over how to sign it. I noticed Caroline moving about behind me in a long night shift, and nodded when she told me I should get to bed soon, for we were to be away as the sun rose. I finished the note quickly, not wanting to lose the opportunity to sleep in a bed, if we were to be on the road for several days before we reached Anvil.

 _I ask you to pray for me, and I promise I will return_ , I added to the bottom of the note, leaving it unsigned. By using the words we had said to each other each time I had left, I hoped it would be enough to identify me, so that Martin would know that the note _was_ from me, and not a diversion created by the Dawn.

 _You are suspicious close to the point of ridiculousness,_ my mother's voice chastised me, though the tone wasn't sneering, for once. I smiled down at my letter, nodding and dusting it with powder to seal the ink. Of course I was suspicious, I replied to myself. After all that had happened, it would be stupid of me to not take precautions where I could.

I left the letter open to dry and lay it on top of my small back pack. It was on the table, next to my common clothes, bow and quiver. I would seal it and hand it to Burd before we left.

Writing the short note to Martin had somehow made me feel more at peace about travelling around Cyrodiil, and once I was in bed, sleep found me swiftly, though my dreams were full of short, fiery flights through Oblivion where I was mocked relentlessly by the voice I now knew belonged to Mankar Camoran.


	28. Caution and Commitments

We assembled in the courtyard of the castle about an hour before dawn. When Caroline and I arrived, there was a small party of plain-clothed guards loading hessian sacks of produce into the cart that was to serve as our hiding place, until we had reached a safe distance from Bruma. I cast my eyes around the courtyard, wondering who in the number assembled would be accompanying us? Surely not the Bruma guards, if we were meant to be evacuating Bruma using the farmer's cart method, not taking soldiers away.

Caroline and I were dressed in the plain clothing we'd selected the day before and carried small backpacks and our weapons, to conceal somewhere on the cart, and when I stopped to look at the activity in front of us, Caroline indicated that I should hand my burdens to her.

Removing the letter I'd written to Martin the night before from the pack's front pocket and grasping it as I retied the buckle, I handed my supplies over. Caroline left me to load them and I searched the courtyard for Captain Burd, but a quick glance told me he wasn't there. Was he not seeing us off?

Before I could ask anybody where the Captain was, a harried-looking Altmer in Mage's guild robes, who seemed as though he'd rather be in bed than in the castle courtyard, approached me. His role in our departure must have been explained to him already, because without introducing himself he wearily, but somewhat snippily, told me to stand still.

Put on guard by his manner and feeling strained from the anxiety of what lay ahead, I remained tight-lipped but still, as the Mage cast the now-familiar Alteration spell over me.

"The spell will last until midday, but you should be well away from Bruma by then and it won't matter," the Mage yawned as he told me this in the haughty voice Altmer seemed to reserve for Imperials.

"Yes, very well," I waved him away snobbishly, then turned to Caroline as she returned.

I heard the man 'hmph' as he departed, but was too distracted by Caroline's expression to worry about it. Her eyes were wide, and her mouth hung open as she came to a halt.

"What is it, what's wrong?" I asked quickly.

She shook her head a little and then covered a laugh. "My Lady, I'm sorry. You're..." she trailed off, waving her hand at me.

I stared down at my hands, noticing my chest was flatter than usual and my fingers seemed a little stubbier. What did I look like, I wondered? Suddenly I wanted a mirror, and wondered if the unfriendly Mage had turned me into something ridiculous. "I'm what?"

Caroline did laugh now. "Don't look so frightened, my Lady!" she came to my side. "It is a good disguise. You're a farmer's lad."

_Lad?_

"I'm a boy?" I stared at my hands again, as Caroline lead me forward to join the group near the cart.

"It's as good a disguise as any," she shrugged. "I'm sorry for laughing; I did not expect to turn around and see a Nord boy standing where you had been only moments before," she explained.

I didn't know how to respond to Caroline, and grumpily stared at the cart we were going to be hidden in while I flushed. The spell hadn't transformed me _entirely_ into a boy, it seemed, because I could feel that I was still me, below the waist. Cursing the Mage at what I felt was a deliberate affront, I took a deep breath and tried to assure myself that it had been a stroke of brilliance. If we _were_ seen departing Bruma, nobody would suspect that this farmer's lad I'd been turned into was me.

Yvara approached us then, there to see us off in place of the Countess, who I assumed was still abed given the early hour. While dawn was close to breaking, from within the castle walls everything was still very dark and grey.

"Lady...um," Yvara looked perplexed as she took in my appearance, and also shook her head slightly, as Caroline had done moments ago.

"It's all right," I told her hurriedly, feeling the flush to my cheeks renew itself. "Please, Yvara," I held my note to Martin out to her. "When a Blade from Cloud Ruler Temple arrives, could you ensure that they receive this, to take back with them?"

Yvara took the note gingerly, casting a glance at Caroline.

"It is for the Emperor," I told her by way of explanation. "It explains to him why we are continuing on into Cyrodiil, instead of returning to Cloud Ruler Temple as he requested."

Yvara still looked rather uncertain. "I see," she bowed a nod, as she tucked the note into the pocket of her fur-lined coat. "My um, Lady, I shall make certain it is delivered."

"Thank you," I tried with as much elegance as I could muster.

The Countess' steward seemed to collect herself as she raised her head. "The Countess asked me to apologise for her absence, but she is feeling unwell this morning," Yvara explained.

"Oh," Caroline frowned. "Nothing serious, I hope?"

Yvara shook her head. "There is a healer from the Chapel with her now," she started. "And, now that I have conveyed my message to you, granted that you have no further need of me, I should like to return to her."

"Oh - by all means," I indicated that she leave. "Convey my best wishes to the Countess, and I pray for her speedy recovery."

With another hesitant glance and bow in my direction, Yvara said her goodbyes and hurried back toward the main castle.

I turned toward the cart again, holding my arms around myself, wishing that I'd thought to take a heavy coat or scarf from the supplies we'd been offered. A crisp, icy breeze cut through the shirt I was wearing, and my hair, which was much shorter in my Nord lad guise, offered no protection to the back of my neck. There was nothing for it now; I rubbed my hands against my arms and hopped a little on the spot in effort to warm myself up.

"No Countess, no Captain Burd," Caroline muttered next to me. "What kind of departure is this for Tamriel's last hope?" she cast me a teasing look.

I rolled my eyes at her. "An appropriate one," I muttered. "How conspicuous would it look to have a boring old farmer's cart leave Bruma to noble speeches and fanfare?"

Caroline laughed a little and rested her hand on my shoulder. "Come on, _lad_. It looks like the cart's nearly ready."

I bristled again as we made our way to the others who would be accompanying us to Anvil, hoping that the foreboding feeling creeping its claws around me was simple, natural fear of the unknown, and not premonitory.

–

Even after the sun had risen, it was so dark in the cart that I might have slept, had I not been so incredibly uncomfortable.

Caroline and I were lying on our backs on a thin layer of scratchy hessian, which had been haphazardly placed over the wooden base of the cart itself. On top of us was a palette of wood, supported to leave room enough for us to lie flat on our backs, but not roll over, and then above that, sack after sack of what smelled like leeks.

Caroline and I weren't the only people crammed into the small smuggling hold of the farmer's cart; there were three other people evacuating Bruma with us. I was lying next to Caroline, and one of the other evacuees – an elderly woman who had said her name was Enith, before we'd clambered aboard. Somehow, Enith had fallen asleep, as I could hear her snoring softly, close to my ear.

There was also a child – a little boy, called Hod, who was riding up top with the farmer, and another woman, Hod's mother I guessed, who was laid out next to Caroline. Who were they, I wondered, that they'd been chosen as the first evacuees of Bruma? Friends of the Countess? Family of an important guardsman? I felt as though I should know, but told myself that it didn't matter; my focus needed to be on what I would ask the Countess of Anvil, and not who my travelling companions were.

As uncomfortable as our journey was proving to be, I told myself time and time again that it was necessary, as the road we were travelling along – the Silver road – was quite busy. Many a time I heard the farmer, whose name I'd not been told, calling out greetings to passing wagons, and surely, if we had been seen departing Bruma by so many people, one of them would have talked and word would have gotten back faster to the Mythic Dawn.

I was under no delusion that the Mythic Dawn would not eventually discover what we had planned; I only hoped that we would have time to assemble a force large enough to protect Bruma and stop the creation of the Great Gate, before they found out about what we were doing.

 _And what if they do_ , I asked myself, as the cart bounced us over a few rocks, and then angled downwards as we continued our descent from Bruma. _Will they come after me, knowing I'm no longer at Cloud Ruler Temple?_

Confused about why they would bother trying to find me, again, I clenched my eyes shut, and tried to focus instead on the sounds of the world around me. The cart levelled out, and one of the wheels bumped over a small divot, making it scrape against its guard. Enith breathed soundly next to me again, snorting a little as the cart jostled us. The farmer and Hod were talking softly, but I couldn't make out what either of them were saying. Then the cart began to angle downward again, and I gripped onto the palette above me, to stop from sliding.

We went along this way for hours. Surely, I reasoned, we would stop soon, to rest the horses and to stretch our legs and relieve ourselves. Caroline and I had eaten a very scant breakfast before we'd assembled in the courtyard, too, so I felt hollow and cold.

The farmer had said that once we reached the Gold road, he'd stop at an old ruin that nobody ever visited, where it would be safe to come out. I thought I would try to befriend the farmer, once we had stopped, to see if I could ride up front with him and Hod, at least until the Alteration spell on me wore off.

Anything would be better than this scratchy, bumpy, dark ride.

–

I squinted at the brilliance of the sunlight reflecting off the white stone structure in front of me as the farmer held out a hand to help me down from the back of the cart.

"Thank you," I tore my eyes off the ruin, trying to smile at the farmer, though my heart plummeted at the sight of what was obviously an Ayleid ruin. "Mister..?" I asked.

"Raddin," he muttered, giving me an uneasy glance, similar to the one Yvara had cast me back in Bruma, and I remembered belatedly that I looked like a boy but sounded and acted like a Lady.

I let go of his arm as he reached back to help Hod's mother down from the cart, and turned away from him to hide my blush, cursing the Altmer mage again. Of all the stupid disguises...

The Ayleid ruin before me didn't have a beautiful, angelic figure standing over it as Elenglynn had, and was rather more cathedral-like and monolithic, but it nevertheless reminded me of Martin. It seemed so long ago, that we were riding to Weynon Priory, stopping at the ruins to rest and eat. It had been then that I had realised I was beginning to truly rely on and care for Martin, as he had eased my aches and pains with his healing magic, running his hands so familiarly yet deftly over my legs.

I shuddered at the memory as an ache thudded in my chest, and I longed to be back at Cloud Ruler Temple with him, or for him to be here, sharing the sight of this ancient ruin with me.

Caroline stepped up beside me; I didn't see her, but heard her settle to a stop, as I gazed up at the ruin, and the tree tops, not really seeing either.

"Where are we, Caroline?" I asked her quietly, unable to shake the sadness from my question.

Caroline rested her arm over my shoulders. "I'm not sure," she sighed, but then pointed around me. "But, you can see the White-Gold Tower, through the trees there."

I turned and looked. Yes, there it was; a hazy spire, visible over the tops of the trees.

"So, we must be on the Gold road," she continued. "Which means that we're only hours from Skingrad," she added pointedly.

I turned finally to look at her, with a frown. "Why does that matter? We're bound for Anvil."

Caroline shook her head, and spoke up quietly now. "I know it was the plan to travel that far, but I have been feeling uneasy about this journey to Anvil today," she sounded wary, and her glance at our travelling companions, who were sitting by the cart eating food from paper packages, made me wonder if she was wary of _who_ we travelled with. "I feel that it would be smarter of us to depart at Skingrad, acquire some horses and make our own way around Cyrodiil."

I eyed our companions, wondering who it was that Caroline didn't trust, or if I was reading too much into her manner. Perhaps she was wary of simply alerting the evacuees to her feelings.

 _And mine_ , I reminded myself, detangling from Caroline and taking a few steps further into the ruin so that we could talk more easily, raising my hand to one of the columns of white stone. To our companions, it would have looked as though I was simply wanting to get a closer look at it.

"I feel it also," I told her my eyes on the stone pillar. The material had been so finely worked that I could see no joins along it. "Perhaps we _should_ disembark at Skingrad."

Caroline nodded shortly. "Good. I shall let Raddin know and insinuate that these were our orders, and that I was not to tell him until now."

I returned her nod, and gazed back up at the pillar of white stone as I heard her step away, her boots crunching on the leafy undergrowth as she made for the cart.

 _Good_ , I told myself. Skingrad was known to me and better still, we could acquire horses from my estate, who'd been broken by my mother's champion trainer, rather than having to purchase new ones I knew nothing about.

It wouldn't be as safe, riding the open road with Caroline, and by then the Alteration spell would have surely worn off. But I could not ignore Caroline's feelings, particularly when they echoed my own.

I turned back toward the farmer's cart, noting that Caroline was speaking to Raddin now, and so took my time returning to the others. I offered a hesitant smile to Enith, who was chewing on a piece of apple, but the old woman simply offered me the same wary, disconcerted glance that Raddin had given me before.

I rolled my eyes and leaned, frustrated, against the cart, grabbing a piece of bread and biting a chunk out of it. The sooner Caroline and I split from this strange group we travelled with, the better.

–

My nerves had reached fever-pitch as every part of me protested to not climb back into the smuggling compartment on the farmer's cart, at the end of our break.

Caroline had convinced Raddin that she and I were to leave them at Skingrad, and so I knew that there was only a few more hours of discomfort ahead of me. I told myself, again, that it was only the thought of the scratchy hessian and dark, bumpy ride that made me want to flee.

Once I was in position, I felt a hazy, tingling sensation overcome me, and with a sigh of relief, I realised that the Alteration spell had worn off. I was me again. The thought brought me a little comfort, though it did not matter who or what I looked like, from within the hold.

The cart started ambling along the road again, and the ride was marginally smoother, now that we were on flatter ground. The Gold road was better maintained than the northern and southern roads, I remembered, owing to it being much more frequently used, by traders, soldiers and nobles alike.

So, the road was much busier than the Silver had been, and knowing that I was me again, a part of me was grateful to being hidden. Raddin didn't call out as much as he had when we'd been travelling down from Bruma, but the activity on the road sounded more military than anything else, so why would he?

Marching boots hammered along the road like a giant's heart beat, and while the sound might have been cause for fear in others, it eased my mind. If there were guards on the road, there would not be any Mythic Dawn.

–

I was convincing myself that my uneasiness had simply been a product of tiredness and discomfort, exacerbated by the wary glances everyone kept casting at me, when the sound of something sinister and distinctly _not_ guard-like tore through the air. A puff of sound, an unnatural whoosh of tree branches that conflicted with the natural breeze.

"What was that?" Caroline whispered.

My blood turned to ice as a ripple of green-hued magic swept over me.

_No. Not again._

The cart stopped moving. The horses, and Raddin, made no sound.

"Caroline?" I whispered.

When she didn't answer me, I reached out, grabbing for her hand resting next to me. It was warm, but still. I could feel the blood pumping through her veins, at her wrist, but she didn't try to grab my hand back, confirming my worst fears.

Paralysis. _Again._ The only thing that had saved me from being effected by it, again, were the rings that Jauffre had given me.

Was it the Dawn, or a random attack? Would whoever had attacked us loot the cart and leave us be, or did they know that there were people, hidden away in a compartment underneath it, and we were their target?

 _How could they find out about us so quickly_ , I asked myself furiously?

The sounds of approach – boots, crunching on the gravel of the road. There was only one pair of feet – I told myself we were being looted by a lone, random bandit who happened to have some skill in magic.

I strained to see behind me, to confirm there was only one of them, though there was no point – it was pitch black in our hiding spot.

I heard fabric being tossed aside; wood scraping against wood; a latch being opened. I clenched my eyes shut, trying to slow down my breathing as my heart hammered in my chest.

 _They are looting the cart_ , I told myself. _These are all normal sounds-_

A pair of strong hands grabbed me under my arms and dragged me out swiftly to my shoulders, and a man laughed.

_I know that laugh._

I gasped and my eyes flew open, to look up into the triumphant face of _Mankar Camoran_.

"I thought so," he said smugly.

–

I startled awake, and stopped myself from screaming by biting down on my tongue and digging my fingernails into the hessian either side of me. I could hear my heartbeat, thumping rapidly, in my ears, and I felt a cold sweat trickling down my temple and along the back of my neck. The air in the smuggling hold was dry, and stale, and I could see nothing. I gasped but I couldn't catch my breath, as tears welled at the corner of my eyes.

"Caroline," I hissed urgently, reaching for her.

"My Lady?" she replied, and sounded confused. Even with those two simple words, her tone calmed me minutely, and reassured me that I _had_ been dreaming.

I grabbed hold of her hand clumsily, and gripped it. "We have to get off this cart, _now_ ," I made myself take deep breaths, but the uncomfortable, dark ride, the uneasiness and now, the nightmare, made me want to be anywhere but here, whatever the consequences.

Caroline didn't question me further, but hammered on the roof of the smuggling hold.

"Hey!" she called out. "Raddin! Get us out of here!"

"Hmm?" Enith, beside me, snorted awake.

"Whatever's the matter?" I heard Hod's mother saying, from the other side of Caroline.

I ignored both of them, let go of Caroline's hand and beat my hands against the roof myself. "Stop the cart!" I cried out.

After a pause, I heard Raddin's muffled response. "Keep it down, you fools."

"Let us out!" I screamed.

I felt the cart slowing, and stopped beating against the top of the wood above us.

"What's going on, eh?" Enith asked me snippily.

I ignored her, and listened.

Raddin's curses could be heard over the sound of the horses hooves and cart's wheels moving from gravel road to softer, less noisy grass.

"We seem to have attracted his attention," Caroline murmured.

A moment later, the latch of the smuggling hold was opened, and weak light filtered through. I blinked against it as I was half-hauled out by the furious-looking farmer, and clawed myself the rest of the way out. He let go of my arms roughly and reached back into the hold immediately for Caroline, and I leaned against the back of the cart, my eyes closed, breathing in the fresh air.

"The Countess will hear about this, mark my words," Raddin was telling Caroline when I turned back to my bodyguard.

"Does it look like I care?" Caroline asked cooly. "Retrieve our weapons and supplies for us, and the Lady and I will be on our way."

Raddin looked as though he was going to explode, his face turning an alarming shade of red, as he turned back to me with his mouth open, clearly about to rage at us some more.

Then he did a double-take, and with a little start of my own, owing to the ferocity of his look, I realised he was seeing me for the first time as myself.

He stood there, somewhat confused and frozen, and I arched an eyebrow at him, wondering suddenly if he'd not been told who I was, or that my identity was being masked.

Then the little boy, Hod, turned around in the seat at the front of the cart to look at us, and laughed.

"Mama, it's the Hero of Kvatch!" he cried out.

"Be quiet and sit still!" I heard Hod's mother call out desperately from within the hold.

Caroline cleared her throat pointedly and told Raddin to get on with retrieving our things, and when he was occupied she turned to me, her expression somewhat exasperated as she stepped up next to me and put her arm around my shoulder, to ease me off the side of the cart so I could lean on her instead.

"What was that about, my Lady?" she whispered, not unkindly.

I shook my head. "Later. How far do you think we are from Skingrad?" I surveyed our surrounds. There was what looked like a cave nearby, but for the most part we were encircled by trees and ferns.

Caroline nodded in a direction, which I guessed was west owing to the direction the road meandered. "I don't think we're far. We'll stay off the road. We can camp in the woods tonight if we have to, but it will be safer if we push on until we reach Skingrad."

I agreed, as Raddin returned with our bags slung over his shoulders and our weapons in his hands. "Forgive me for saying so, m'Lady, but you're mad to proceed on your own," he told me, as he held the bow and quiver out to me. "The woods aren't safe."

I gave him an odd look as I took them, put off guard by his sudden change in manner. It was the first time he had sounded kind, and he didn't seem to require a response from me, because he turned to Caroline straight away.

"And you shall leave us to our madness," Caroline replied to him, as she shouldered both of our packs with what looked like no effort whatsoever.

"Caroline, here-" I began, reaching for mine.

"Don't even think about it," she slung one of the bags over her shoulder cross-ways, then the other, and took the sword belt Raddin was holding out to her swiftly.

I closed my mouth and stepped back, then strapped my quiver around me and shouldered the bow. There was no point in arguing with her, and she was already ready to leave.

I turned back to Raddin, suddenly feeling ashamed of what we had put him through. "Be careful, on the road," I nodded to the path they would continue taking. "There are people looking for me," I added, turning back to the farmer, who was regarding me with disbelief, still.

Sighing, I indicated his cart instead. "Someone might have seen or heard us, at the Ayleid ruin before," I told him. "It might be best if your other passengers ride up top from now on."

"Yes, m'Lady," he nodded to me, and approached the opening of the smuggling hold.

Baffled at his swiftness, I nearly laughed at him. "That wasn't an order," I spluttered.

"Yes, m'Lady," Raddin repeated, reaching into the hold to help Enith and Hod's mother out anyway.

"But-" I began.

"Leave him," Caroline stepped up beside me and reached out to take my arm gently. "We should be on our way; there isn't much light left in the day."

I nodded as Caroline lead me around the cart and away from the road, further into the woods.

I cast my eyes back at the cart one final time, to see little Hod standing up tall on the driver's seat, waving excitedly at us.

As I turned away from the cart to look forwards, into the woods ahead, I fell into step behind Caroline, and felt the uneasiness that had plagued me all morning melt away, to be replaced with a simple weariness.

–

The glow of the lights of Skingrad were within sight as the sun set that evening and Caroline and I crested another hill. We decided to push on to the castle, where I was certain the Count's steward would arrange accommodation for us for the night, and in the morning we could attempt to see the Count about sending his army to Bruma. I wasn't certain that we would obtain audience with Count Hassildor, but I would deal directly with and plead our case to his steward or the Captain of the Skingrad guard, if I had to.

I didn't consider staying at Rosethorn Hall after last time, particularly with the nightmare of being found by Markar Camoran fresh in my mind.

Caroline hadn't seem fazed when I'd told her about the nightmare, assuring me that it was the product of a strange day and not enough sleep the night before, but I wasn't so certain. This was not the first time I had dreamed of Mankar Camoran, and dreams featuring him in any capacity – be it his voice, or this time, his actual person – felt different. More surreal than any normal dream, while at the same time feeling distinctly more solid. While I had nothing but my feeling to back it up, a part of me was certain that, being in a separate realm, dreams were Camoran's way of breaching the gap to Mundus; the only way he could hunt me himself.

Or perhaps he was just trying to frighten me.

Or perhaps I was reading too much into what were simply products of my imagination. If Camoran could reach out to people through their dreams, then why bother with me at all? He would have surely invaded Martin's dreams, and attacked him, instead.

After ascending the next hill in the dark grey of late evening I caught sight of Castle Skingrad, and smiled despite its gloomy, intimidating appearance. The castle was a dull silhouette against the bright torches that lit up the bridge to it, and the even brighter lights of Skingrad city beside it. I reminded myself that the Castle's torches were mostly within, as the Count wasn't as ostentatious as other Counts and Countesses of Cyrodiil and never saw fit to show off his residence. Even from childhood, when I had dwelt in Skingrad and visited the castle with mother, I remembered that it was sparsely furnished and modestly decorated, as though the Count didn't want to draw attention to anything within the fortress. It was a beautiful, but quiet, and somewhat melancholy place.

Approaching the bridge that lead to the Castle, I paused and listened, turning to look at the walled expanse of Skingrad. I could hear the distant sounds and shouts of the night markets in the city from up here. In a moment of wonderment, I realised that while Caroline and I journeyed over Cyrodiil and men and women throughout the whole of Tamriel fought daedra and closed Oblivion gates, and despite there being no Emperor on the throne and no Dragonfires lit, that for some people, life was still managing to proceed as it always had.

"My Lady?" Caroline asked, stopping beside me. I glanced at her; in one hand she held a small Candlelight spell. "Come, we are nearly there."

I nodded sombrely and we resumed, and soon we were at the gateway. A guard standing in the shadows stepped out to meet us, and once Caroline had introduced me we were ushered through the gate, across the courtyard and into the Castle proper straight away, almost as though we had been expected.

But of course, we were neither expected, nor wanted.

"The Count does not accept unsolicited visitors, I'm afraid," an Argonian woman in fine green silks and velvets told Caroline and I when we were introduced by the guard who'd lead us into the main hall.

I was tired, and inwardly sighed, composing myself with all the grace I could muster in the common, rumpled, travel-stained clothing I was wearing.

"I understand," I bowed respectfully, but only to the level that was required of my status to a steward. "I apologise for not sending someone in advance to announce my visit," I spoke quietly, subtly casting my eyes around the hall. It was enormous, and empty, and poorly lit with little adornments on the high stone walls; just as I remembered it. I wondered just how late it was, but then, it probably made no difference to the activity within this place.

The Argonian gave me a sideways glance, and I gave her a warm, but small smile, in return.

"Who are you?" she asked finally. "I feel as though I know your face."

"Hal-Liurz," Caroline spoke formally, and identified the Count's steward. I was glad, because her name had slipped my mind. "Might I introduce the Lady Sarina Passero, the once betrothed to Prince Ebel Septim, and Hero of Kvatch?"

"Passero – Hero of -" Hal-Liurz drew her hand up to her mouth, then reached out, indicating me. "You're...but, why are you _here_ , my Lady?"

I opened my mouth but wasn't sure where to start.

"It is a long story," Caroline said quickly, perhaps assuming I was about to launch into an explanation in the cavernous main hall, where anyone might hear us. I wasn't, but I was glad for her taking control of the situation. "And one best left for when the Count is present," she added, somewhat pointedly.

Hal-Liurz seemed to dismiss her curiosity at my appearance as swiftly as it had shown itself, as she nodded her head in a small bow. "Of course. Please, if you would follow me," she waved her hand to the staircase to the left of Caroline and I.

We followed her up the stairs and along the second story hallway.

"Are you taking us to the Count?" I asked her, somewhat wearily. I certainly wasn't prepared for an audience right then and there, particularly with somebody I knew so little about.

Hal-Liurz shook her head. "I am afraid that the Count is indisposed. The Count's wife is unwell, you see."

My ears pricked up at the mention of Rona Hassildor, whom nobody had seen at court or otherwise since well before I was born. There had always been rumours about her, fuelled by the Count's reluctance to leave his Castle; that he was a tyrant, and kept her locked in a tower so that no other man might look upon her; that she had gone mad, and was kept out of public eye for her own, and everybody else's protection; that the Count had murdered her, and had made a necromancer reanimate her, and thus being ageless, she was kept out of sight.

I had not subscribed to the rumours about the Count, knowing that if they were true, Janus Hassildor would have not remained Count for long under Uriel Septim's reign. But I had to admit, walking the cold, quiet, blank stone corridors of Castle Skingrad, the prospect of having an audience with the Count that night, after the day I had just endured, was not a welcoming thought.

"That is perfectly understandable," Caroline supplied, when Hal-Liurz didn't continue. "And the hour is late. Might an audience with Count Hassildor be arranged for the morning? Breakfast would suit us?"

Hal-Liurz hesitated, then stopped and unlocked a door from a key that she took from a ring on her belt. "You may rest and refresh yourself here, my Lady," she turned back to us, indicating that we walk into the room.

Caroline held her hand up to stop me from entering, then cast Candlelight before us in her other hand. "Thank you. And of the audience with the Count?"

"I shall have someone come up shortly with provisions for you both; you may instruct them of anything else you require," she evaded Caroline's question again, badly.

I nodded, glad to be avoiding the meeting with the Count for now, and stepped past Caroline's blocking arm to enter the dark room. Caroline was right behind me, and the light in her hand cast a dull whiteness over a dusty bed draped with a dark cloth along one wall, and what I assumed was a table and chairs, also draped with the same type of cloth.

Hal-Liurz stepped into the room after us, and began bundling up the cloth. "We do not often have visitors to the Castle, so I'm afraid there are no rooms ready."

"No, it's fine," I told her. "Thank you. We have had a long day and your hospitality on no notice is appreciated more than you can imagine," I went for praise, the fatigue evident in my tone.

"You are most welcome. Now you must excuse me, while I see to arranging people who will make your stay more comfortable," the Argonian, the coverings balled in her arms, moved toward the door.

I moved to the table and turned one of the chairs that was on top of it over, slinging my quiver and bow over the corner of it, then taking a seat. "Yes, of course."

Caroline seemed frustrated, but she didn't say anything as she recast the Candlelight spell in her hand as the first one she'd cast began to fade. She walked to the end of the bed, and unloaded our bags, then with a sigh, walked to one of the wall sconces, and lit it with a weak flame spell.

After the Count's steward had left, I leaned over the table and rested my forehead against it. "Caroline, what am I doing here?"

"You tell me, my Lady," she sounded tight lipped, and I heard her approach the table. The sound of another chair being moved from the top of the table to the floor rang in my ears, as the wood of the chair legs scraped against the flagstones.

I raised my head and looked at her, frowning; she was sitting perpendicular to me, agitation in her eyes, but otherwise, seemed serene. "Do you think we should have gone on to Anvil with the others, as planned, after all?" I asked her.

Caroline shook her head. "No. I think we made the right call," she winced a little, then unbuckled her sword belt and lay it on the table in front of us. "But we should not linger in Skingrad. Last time you were here..."

I sighed too now. "We can't _make_ the Count see us immediately."

"No," she said crossly. "Just as we cannot _make_ the Count take an interest in the war taking place around him."

"What would you have me do?" I asked evenly. "Demand an audience of the steward, after arriving in an unorthodox way with no notice, travel-worn and in commons? That is no way to win favour, and if they don't like us, we will not be able to gain a single soldier for Bruma."

Caroline looked me over once, and I saw the frustration in her change, into resignation. "You are so very composed, my Lady. I envy you the ability to be calm in the face of dire need and urgency."

Weary as I was, I hadn't been expecting that from Caroline, and I burst out laughing.

She gave me a concerned look. "My Lady? Are you all right?"

I shook my head as I calmed myself. "Oh Caroline, I'm scared half to death," I told her honestly, though the laughter was still in my voice. "I have no idea what to say to the Count."

Still clearly taken aback by my reaction, she muttered. "Well, you have been improvising beautifully thus far."

I laughed again, at Caroline's bemused expression, and the laughter made me feel better, lighter, and somehow, less weary.

"I am glad that we weren't taken to the Count immediately," I told Caroline, once I had calmed down a little. "It gives me time to think about how to do this."

Caroline seemed somewhat relieved, and leaned forward. "Favours are rarely given without one in return, particularly from one noble to another. Not unless you have something to bargain with," she mused.

I frowned. All I had to offer was material; money, lands – things which Counts and Countesses had in abundance. "I was intending on appealing to their better nature," I told her. "If I were asking a personal favour, then yes, perhaps some form of recompense would be required," I held my hands our reasonably to her, "but this is for the sake of the Emperor," I stressed. "For the whole of Tamriel. Their lives, and the lives of all they know and love are forfeit, if they don't do everything in their power, and send as much aide as possible to Bruma."

Caroline shook her head, and spoke unsurely. "But my Lady, they know truly nothing of what we've seen, and had to fight through. The battle is not on their doorstep; the Gates open outside of the cities, and are dealt with, as they command. This puts strain on their resources, but it has not been unmanageable."

"And sending away those resources will make it more difficult for them to keep the Oblivion gates under control in their own county," I followed her speech to conclusion. "Which _will_ bring the fight closer to them," I added.

"Exactly," Caroline reasoned. "Any Count or Countess will ask you plainly why Bruma is more important than their own county, their own people," she told me, and squared me with a look. "How will you answer them?"

I pondered her question, unable to voice a reply, and watched Caroline for response.

None came. I looked around the room for answers, but of course, they weren't to be found on the blank stone walls or scant furniture.

Perhaps Caroline was right, and I would have to bargain with them. But at what cost? What would a Count or Countess need, that I could provide, and swiftly, as the longer we were away from Bruma, the more likely the possibility that we would be too late to save Bruma, and Cloud Ruler Temple?

While the silence lengthened between us, there was a knock at the door; Caroline rose to admit a few Imperial women bearing water, both to drink and wash with, food, wine, candles, fresh bedding and armloads of clothing.

Once the women left, Caroline and I were both occupied for a time, washing the day's travel from ourselves. My hair felt gritty and awful, and Caroline sat me down to wash it for me. I leaned back over one of the chairs, wrapped in a towel and frowning at the ceiling, while Caroline massaged my scalp with the unscented soap that had been brought by the attendants.

"If I were in their position, and was asked to send armsmen to protect Bruma," I started slowly, chewing on my words, "You are right. I would not understand why Bruma was more important than my own county, regardless of Martin's whereabouts," I told Caroline.

Caroline nodded, but remained silent, washing the soap from my hair and her hands with some fresh water into the bowl.

"And, if the request were fashioned as one from the Emperor," I continued musing, "I would wonder why there was a need to remove troops from protecting my own lands, when he had the Imperial Legion at his command."

Caroline wordlessly lifted me up a little, and started drying my hair with a small towel. "The Imperial Legion is under the High Chancellor's command, while the Emperor is in exile."

"Yes, but still," I countered quickly, "I would ask why my Guard was required, when a Legion was available."

"They're _not_ available," Caroline muttered. "Not readily. They're deployed all over Tamriel."

I nodded. We were to visit the Imperial City and request the Legion be reassembled, too, and I was certain Ocato would do whatever possible to help, but I feared that they were too thinly spread to return to Bruma in time to offer any meaningful assistance.

"Yes. The Emperor's army is fighting this fight already - _we_ know this," I bit my bottom lip, trying to think around the issue, as Caroline stopped drying my hair, and started running a wide-toothed comb through it.

 _If I were Countess of Skingrad_ , I asked myself, _what would convince me to send the Guard protecting my own people to protect somebody else's?_

A direct order from the Emperor himself? No, that was no way to ingratiate the aristocracy to Martin's cause, particularly with his illegitimacy, and that none of them had actually ever _seen_ him.

Money wouldn't help, either. There would be no need for it if in sending assistance to Bruma, my own region fell to the daedra.

 _There would be only one way,_ I told myself, cursing as I saw where my thoughts had lead me.

"Remove the threat," I muttered.

Caroline's hand stilled for a moment, then resumed combing. "Hmm?"

"It's the only way I would agree to sending my Guard to Bruma," I clarified, turning toward her slightly. "Remove the threat to my people, first."

Caroline stopped combing, and this time I heard the comb being put down on the table behind me. She must have realised what this meant, because she replied with, "We don't have time for that."

"I don't think there's much choice in the matter," I responded. "And we may be able to forego possibly days of negotiation, if I come straight out and offer to close active Oblivion gates in their county."

Caroline shifted with a rustle of fabric and then was in front of me, kneeling down and taking my hands. "Think about what you are saying, and where it will lead. How much time it will take," she was pleading with me, I realised. "Until a Septim is on the throne, and the Dragonfires relit, Oblivion gates will continue to open, as fast as we can close them," she added.

"It's all right," I told her, squeezing her hands, wondering if I was really trying to offer reassurance to my bodyguard, when usually the roles were reversed. "Think about it, Caroline. If nothing else, my offering to close an Oblivion gate or two in each region will _guilt_ the Count or Countess into sending aide to Bruma," I offered her a small smile, which she didn't return, her grey eyes wide and worried.

Caroline shook her head. "This is no time to jest."

"I'm not joking," I replied. "I have made up my mind about this," I removed my hands from hers, and stood, turning to pour through the pile of clothing on the table, for something to rest in. Considering that I had practically just vowed to use myself as a bargaining tool, and walk into Oblivion several more times, I was suddenly, remarkably calm. "My priority – our priority," I corrected, "is to assemble as large an army for Bruma, and thus for Martin, as possible," I reminded her. "Yes, as swiftly as we are able to, but perhaps this _is_ the fastest way," I added, picking up a bundle of linen.

I shrugged my way into the simple cream-coloured dress, and turned back to Caroline. She was sitting on the chair I had previously occupied, her hands limply in her lap, a perturbed look on her face.

"Promise me," she said quietly, "that you will attempt to appeal to their 'better nature', as you called it, before you offer yourself as their Deadlands champion."

I nodded. "Of course. I don't _want_ to go into any more Oblivion gates, if I can help it," I turned back to the clothing, looking for something to wear on the morrow; something suitable for an audience with the Count.

Caroline joined me after a moment, and started selecting items from the clothing too, for herself I assumed. "I will not look kindly upon any person, noble or not, who expects you to walk into Oblivion for them while they rest in a palace surrounded by guards and luxury."

"Which is why I shall offer it," I told her plainly, confidently. "Because they will not expect it, and because they will not dare refuse me, once I do," I cast a smile at her, as I located some shoes that might work with the dress I'd selected. "Though, if it takes some time to gain audience with the Count tomorrow, it might be a good idea to venture into Skingrad and visit a smithy."

Caroline just shook her head at me. "The Emperor will be furious about this course of action you have chosen."

"Perhaps," I sighed, my outfit assembled, and I re-took my seat. "But he is not unreasonable. He understands, better than most, what each region faces. He was at Kvatch, remember, doing whatever he could to help. That's all I am doing," I told Caroline.

A flutter of nerves pooled in my belly as I remembered Kvatch, and that the same fate awaited Bruma if I failed.

"Whatever we can to help," Caroline muttered bleakly.


	29. The Count, the Captain and the Consequences

"It's done."

I placed the Sigil stone on Count Hassildor's desk, and it landed with an audible 'thunk'.

The Count stared at the stone, then regarded me with his sad, red eyes, and a frown. "I apologise, Lady Passero. I admit that I did not believe that you were capable," he told me.

I locked the Count's gaze squarely, and took a few steadying breaths. _So, you sent me to what you believed would be my death,_ I thought at him, but remained silent. I was aware of Caroline standing behind me, but knew that she would leave addressing the Count to me, so I would have to reply to him soon.

"I have kept my word, Count Hassildor," I opted for polite formality and ignored his revelation, wiping the back of my hand across my forehead. It felt sweaty, gritty, and I knew I must have looked very different to the last time the Count had seen me; clean and in provided finery, discussing what assistance he could send to Bruma, should I close a nearby Gate. "Will you keep yours?" I asked lightly, careful to use a tone that wouldn't offend him by questioning his integrity.

Count Hassildor's frown deepened. "Naturally, my child. We entered into an agreement, and I will keep to my part in it."

"Excellent," now I smiled at him, despite a deep-seated, primal urge within me telling me to _run_ , owing to his condition, visible on the surface only through those unnatural red eyes. His pallor could have been attributed to his reclusive lifestyle, but I knew better, now.

 _Be calm, and have courage_ , I told myself. _If you can face Oblivion, you can face him._

The Count's oddness, his reluctance to venture out of his castle, and the rumours surrounding his private life had made sense, once I had taken my first audience with him, very early that morning. Count Hassildor had _Porphyric Hemophilia_ ; more commonly referred to as Vampirism. Unlike others who had contracted the disease, the Count seemed to have found a peace within himself and his malady, though it had spiralled him into a wholly secluded existence. As for his wife, I hadn't asked; though my hunch was that Count Hassildor had turned her, not killed her, when he'd first become infected.

It didn't explain her whereabouts, but despite my almost instinctual interest in the going-ons of the aristocracy, I forced myself to remain disinterested in matters unrelated to my current objective, until such matters became relevant to me again.

Vampire or not, he was still Count of Skingrad, and had agreed at that initial audience to send an invaluable five legions to Bruma, should I successfully close the Oblivion gate to the east of Skingrad, which had recently appeared too close to the city for his people's comfort.

"I shall have my Captain select and prepare the Skingrad delegation to leave at once, if you wish it," the Count told me, leaning his elbows on the desk before him, and clasping his hands together.

"Thank you, that would be best," I nodded a bow.

"But Sarina," the Count hesitated, smiling a little oddly, as though he was not used to smiling any more. "Five legions is a lot of soldiers, and if I remember your story correctly, the intention is to mask the assembly of this force you gather, to your enemies."

 _Our enemies,_ I thought, with a little annoyance, realising that Caroline had been right; some still didn't truly believe that this was _their_ war.

 _The Countess of Bruma does, and that is all that matters at the moment_ , I consoled myself.

"How do you suppose they will enter Bruma, without arising suspicion?" the Count continued, unaware of my frustration.

I had not considered that, my thoughts only on assembling as many people as quickly as possible to help the Bruma Guard close Oblivion gates as the Dawn attempted to open the Great Gate.

But I could not let the Count believe that I didn't have an answer for him. Now it had been asked, I realised too that there was no way that five legions – fifty soldiers – would be able to enter Bruma on the back of farmer's carts, and reside in the city, until most of the town had been evacuated. In truth, I doubted that the Countess and Captain Burd's plan had counted on me retrieving so many to fight for them so quickly, and from a single city.

It seemed that offering to close Oblivion gates for nobles had its rewards; even Caroline, despite her misgivings, couldn't deny my decision to offer to close them now.

Caroline fidgeted next to me, and wondering if she had thought of a way around this issue of assembling such a force in Bruma, I turned and raised my eyebrows at her slightly, in question.

She nodded, very slightly as well, and I turned back to the Count, smiling genuinely now with relief, and indicating Caroline. "My bodyguard has instructions for your Captain, which will detail how your legions are to enter Bruma."

The Count's chilling gaze flickered to Caroline momentarily. "I see. And do you care to share this knowledge with me?"

Caroline spoke evenly, but respectfully, from over my shoulder. "My apologies, my Lord. There is no conspiracy here, but my instructions are from the Grandmaster of the Blades, for the Captain of each city Guard."

I masked a wince at Caroline's words, forcing myself to remain calm and wishing the audience to be over before we offended the Count or contradicted our plans. Jauffre had not been aware of how talk with Countess Carvain would have gone, or the resulting quest.

She had to be lying, and I wondered if she had a plan at all, or was improvising to buy us some time, as she'd bafflingly commended me for doing when we'd arrived in Castle Skingrad. Because, by mentioning Jauffre's hand in whatever her supposed instructions were, the Count couldn't demand to know them, as orders from the Grandmaster were answerable only to the Emperor himself.

The Count seemed to sigh, though there was no effort, and possibly no breath, in it. "Very well," he waved his hand at Caroline. "Give your instructions to Captain Artellian, before you depart.

"I understand that you must be on your way immediately," his gaze focussed back on me. "And while I understand your need for haste, I am saddened by it. I misjudged you, Sarina, and I am pleased to have met you. You are a credit to Skingrad, and to all of Cyrodiil."

I was relieved at these words, because it sounded as though the Count was about to dismiss us. I smiled again. "I apologise for the circumstances under which we have met, but I am pleased to have met you also, Count Hassildor. The Emperor will be grateful of your generosity."

"Indeed," the Count sat up slightly, indicating that we could leave at our leisure, now. "Perhaps when you have completed your quests, you might return to Skingrad for a time and we shall have more opportunities to talk," he said with more grace than he'd exhibited the entire time we had been talking to one another, and I had the sudden notion that he was also relieved that our business was at an end.

"I pray that it is so," I said warmly, bowing my head in farewell.

With a few last formal farewells, Caroline and I left the Count, and made for our guest chamber to ready ourselves for our next journey. Unlike Castle Bruma, Castle Skingrad wasn't a maze of sameness within, and our room was close enough to the main hall that we had no trouble coming and going as we pleased. Hal-Liurz had seemed to appreciate that she didn't have to attend on us.

We entered our guest room and began preparing for departure; cleaning the grime of Oblivion from us, and readying our supplies. Caroline and I worked in haste and silence, both eager to be ready and back on the Gold road.

"Do you know what you'll say to the Captain?" I asked Caroline lightly, as I sealed my backpack, when I was ready. I was wearing the armour of a Skingrad guard, as was Caroline, as our plan was to travel the roads dressed as local guards so that we would not attract attention, at least at first glance.

Caroline nodded, shouldering her pack and holding her hand out for mine. "Of course," she said naturally.

I frowned, and handed it over to her. "You _do_ have orders, from Jauffre?" I asked.

She arranged our two packs on her shoulders, giving me an odd look, and indicated that we leave the room we had occupied the previous night.

"Don't you remember?" she asked me. "It was his idea that we have the Countess ask the other counties for assistance. He anticipated the need for assembling a large force within County Bruma, out of sight."

"Oh," I responded, feeling dumb, as we left the guest room. I didn't bother asking Caroline why Jauffre hadn't let me know what his plan was; information from Jauffre was only ever shared on a need-to-know basis, and he had a history of not telling me the entirety of plans that involved me.

Though, given the need for Countess Carvain's assistance, I was a little surprised that Caroline hadn't made _her_ aware of the plan, at least. But, perhaps she had, and I simply hadn't been present when she had told her.

 _You will know the details soon enough_ , I told myself, as Caroline and I exited the castle and made our way to the guard's barracks, where we'd find the Captain of the Skingrad Guard.

It was near to night again, but we both wanted to leave Skingrad as soon as possible. The Oblivion gate that Caroline and I had sealed had been much like the gates before it, and while it had been Caroline's first journey through the Deadlands, she and I had worked well together, and made short work of it, particularly with our half-decent weapons.

The enveloping whiteness, and Mankar Camoran's snide observations, once I'd removed the Sigil stone, were another matter entirely, and I was still weighing his words and what they had revealed, wondering how it could possibly be true.

–

 _You think I mock you?_ he had begun as the whiteness I had been expecting obscured everything and my body once again felt detached and fuzzy. I was formless, a consciousness, drifting aimlessly. The nothingness had buzzed around me at his words, creating something akin to pain, but somehow I was able to move above it and ignore the feeling.

I had answered without words, as I waited for my journey through whatever this strange bridging realm was to end.

_No. I think you intend to trick and scare me. It won't work._

He had laughed, as I had expected he would, but I hoped that my baiting him would reveal what it was he, or the Mythic Dawn, wanted of me.

 _How little you understand,_ he had chuckled, almost fondly.

 _Then explain it to me_ , I had replied, with interest.

A wave of fear rushed over me in the nothingness, as the memory of the nightmare I'd had outside of Skingrad flooded me. I was looking down at the farmer's cart, though my vision was hazy at the edges. I unlocked a latch, pulled aside some cloth, and reached into a gap. I grabbed something; a body, and pulled. I saw my own face; my eyes startle open, full of fear as I gasped. And I looked down at myself and laughed, saying the words I had heard before I had woken from the dream; _I thought so._

 _In your coming,_ Camoran stated in the high, prophetic, slightly unhinged voice I remembered him using in the cavern at Lake Arrius, _I feel the footsteps of Fate, little hero. Don't you feel it too?_

The vision of him finding me ended suddenly, and all was white again.

I knew that he had forced the memory on me, and by doing this, had revealed something I had wondered, whether he had intended on answering any questions for me or not. He _was_ as aware of these visions, or dreams of mine, and was very likely entirely directing them.

 _You_ do _feel it,_ he said, with some triumph now, as the whiteness began to dissolve around me once more. _But acknowledgement is not enough. You must believe, Sarina._

I willed him to explain properly, and knew I had lost my chance of him doing so by projecting my desire to know.

–

As the realm had faded and I had woken properly, Sigil stone in hand, outside of the closed Oblivion gate, I had realised that Mankar Camoran _had_ wanted me to know he was behind the nightmares, because he wanted me to realise the power, and control, that he had from within his Paradise.

What he _hadn't_ given me was any reason for his actions.

I shook off the memory of the encounter as Caroline and I mounted the short steps that lead to the courtyard outside of the Skingrad barracks.

 _Stop trying to find reason in the actions of a madman_ , I told myself sternly. _Focus on what you need to do next._

I nodded to myself. Yes, I needed to focus on where Caroline and I were headed, not on a riddle full of misdirection, fabricated in a way so I _wouldn't_ be able to understand it.

I had to focus on getting out of Skingrad, and travelling to Kvatch.

Remembering how it had not taken Martin and I long to travel the opposite way, I was confident that Caroline and I would reach Kvatch before it became too late for us to travel safely, particularly since we'd both be on horseback.

Not that I _wanted_ to ride into Kvatch; into the reminder of what would happen to Bruma if the Mythic Dawn opened their Great Gate. But, I was certain that Captain Matius, in the absence of a Count or Countess in the region, would commit whatever resources he could to Bruma's cause without requiring anything in return, and we couldn't miss any opportunities to gain soldiers.

We found Captain Artellian inside the barracks, discussing how to split their numbers and who to send to Bruma with several other guards. Everyone seemed rather bored with the whole ordeal, including the young, handsome Captain, but his hazel eyes lit up in a way that made me flush when he saw Caroline and I entering the circular room.

"Lady Passero!" he called to me in a far-too familiar manner, and I noticed Caroline narrow her eyes slightly. "The beautiful, the brave! The woman of the hour!" he walked towards us, his hands held out.

I stopped in my tracks, and flicked a proper glance at Caroline. She was scowling now, but said nothing, and was watching the Captain's approach closely, though he would not have known it from the subtle shifting of her demeanour; I knew it only from having known her for most of my life.

I turned back to the Captain as he stopped in front of us, though did not reach my hands out to meet his, as it seemed he was expecting me to do.

"Captain Artellian," I began. "We have-"

"Oh, no – but, you are prepared to leave. So soon?" the Captain cut me off, frowning as he noticed Caroline was loaded up with our bags. "Won't you stay for the celebration in honour of your closing another of the Gates?" he flicked his ginger locks out of his eyes with a head tilt and a pout that I thought _he_ thought I would find attractive.

This seemed to be the tipping point for Caroline, who took half a step in front of me, and I could have sworn I heard her growl under her breath. I opened my mouth to reply that we wouldn't be staying, though I was rattled at his - what I assumed was - flirting with me.

"Captain Artellian, a word in private, before Lady Passero and I depart," she said with false cheer.

The Captain turned to look down to Caroline as though seeing her for the first time, blinking and clearly unfazed by her false tone, though the other guards in the room seem to have shrunk back a little, and one had become overly interested in Skingrad shield hanging on a nearby wall.

"But of course," he said with a smile, as though he had been expecting Caroline's request, and bowed as he waved his hand, indicating that we move out of the main room and into an adjoining one. "If you would care to follow me, ladies," he stared toward the door he'd indicated.

I rolled my eyes at both of them as I fell into step behind the Captain. Caroline followed so closely that it was a wonder she didn't trip over me.

He opened the door to a small office and ushered us inside with another wave of his hand. The room contained a desk with some books and papers stacked neatly on it with a few chairs around it, and a number of lavish adornments lined the walls; a fancy shelf against one wall, with a few pretty, well-polished items displayed on it; a plaque on the wall, strung with medals and other honours that the Captain must have received; a few stout, finely-made blue vases on pedestals, from which sprung posies of brilliant-white lady's smock. The room contained a large, wide window, behind the desk, revealing a beautiful view of the east of county Skingrad, and in the distance, the Imperial City.

I must have looked confused at this show of finery, because the Captain laughed. I turned to see smugness on his face, as he held the back of one of the chairs at the desk, and lowered his head a little, to look up at me from under his lashes. "Lady Passero, we are not all Septimless grunts and mercenaries. The Count does _insist_ upon a certain level of class from his closest and most trusted subjects."

"I see," I muttered, making sure my face was impassive as I sat in the offered chair. So, this Captain Artellian was from a high-born family? It would explain the office, the arrogance, his presumptuous manner...

 _Listen to yourself, Sarina,_ I scolded, and at once realised what a hypocrite I was. Each time Jauffre had pointed out this side of my life and those I associated with, I would deny it, and tell myself how unfair he was being. And now I was explaining away the Captain's arrogance using Jauffre's logic?

 _Perhaps now_ , I told myself, _I have been separate long enough from a noble life to recognise what Jauffre dislikes about it._

While I pondered, I registered that Caroline was speaking, and had taken a seat beside me. The Captain sat opposite us both, leaning back in his chair with a leg crossed over his knee at the ankle, his elbow on the armrest and his hand supporting his chin. His eyes were on me again, considering me, and there was a small smile on his lips.

I glanced away, mortified to feel a blush rising along my cheeks, and focussed on Caroline, and what she was telling the Captain. I could hear the strain in her voice, and could tell that it was killing her to have to be so polite to the Captain, but we needed him to like us, and she knew it.

I was relieved that I wasn't aware of Jauffre's orders, after all; it meant I didn't have to engage the Captain in conversation. His actions, and the looks he kept casting my way, made me feel incredibly uncomfortable.

"Your five legions of soldiers need to be split into groups and distributed to Bruma over the next three days," Caroline was explaining. "The groups should consist of no more than three or four soldiers at any time, and they are to wear no armour and carry no weapons, other than those a farmer, miner or hunter would."

"Excuse me?" this seemed to get his attention; the Captain tore his eyes away from me and sat a little straighter. "How are they to fight in the Bruma Oblivion gates if they're not properly armed?"

"They will be supplied with armour and weapons once they reach Bruma. Now, let me finish," Caroline told him smoothly.

The Captain waved his hand a little for her to proceed, and sat back in his seat again.

She continued. "Each day, half of that which you send will travel north, for Chorrol, and the other half, north east, toward the Imperial City," she outlined. "Once at Chorrol, those that head north are to make their way along the Orange road until they reach the Wayshrine to Akatosh, then leave the road and move north again, until they reach Bruma. Those that head east are to traverse the Red Ring road, and then the Silver, and follow its entire length to Bruma."

The discomfort I'd been feeling abated as I started to wonder at the complexity of Jauffre's orders.

"There are five entry points that may be used to enter Bruma's walls," Caroline went on. "Two main gates, two guard entrances - which they may not use - and a cave entrance. Three or four soldiers – so, let's say one group," Caroline shrugged, "may use one of the main entrances each day, as long as they are dressed as traders or farmers. The rest need to go to the cave to the west of Bruma, and use the adjoining tunnel to gain entry to the city. Are you getting all of this?" she paused.

The Captain nodded, though he looked grim. "Is there any more?" he muttered.

Caroline smiled and bowed her head a little, but I could still feel the frustration in her. "However your soldiers enter Bruma, once they are within, they need to visit the Chapel. Once there, they will be given further instructions."

"Is that all?" the Captain asked Caroline, exhaling loudly and flicking me a wide-eyed, laughing sort of look, as though I was sharing a joke with him.

 _You need him to like you_ , I reminded myself again, wanting to shrink back. _If he doesn't, he'll likely assemble the worst of his Guard to send to Bruma._ I smiled back, and gave him a small, apologetic shrug, hoping that if Caroline's message was delivered, she would get us out of here now.

"Yes, I'm afraid that's it," Caroline stood, and nodded a farewell to the Captain. With some relief, I stood as well, as Caroline indicated that I leave before her. "My Lady, we must depart for Kvatch before the night is upon us."

"Yes, of course," I turned to bid Captain Artellian goodbye, but being uncertain of his actual status, dipped a curtsy that I would have given to a steward, hoping that he wouldn't think I was mocking him.

The overwhelmed expression the Captain had been wearing shifted a little as he grinned at me, though his eyes didn't shine as arrogantly as they had before, and this told me that despite himself, his mind was now off me, and on the complicated task ahead of him.

–

"Did Jauffre _really_ tell you to say all of that?" I asked Caroline.

We were on the road to Kvatch, finally, and had acquired two more of my mother's horses from the stables as we had left. I was on a white mare called Ilaria, and Caroline was on a black mare called Ebony. Caroline had arranged for the two horses to be brought down to the Skingrad stables from my family estate in the country early that morning, before we'd taken our initial brief audience with the Count.

I marvelled for a moment that in a single day, Caroline and I had convinced the Count of Skingrad to support us, travelled through Oblivion and back, said our farewells and were on our way again. Perhaps, if luck was on our side for once, we would be able to be in and out of each other major town and city just as quickly and with similar success.

Caroline laughed at my question, as she put on her Skingrad guard's helmet.

"Well, the Grandmaster can be extremely precise when he wants to be," she sighed happily, her voice muffled by the face covering of the helmet. "But no, I'm afraid this was _not_ one of those times. Consider my elaborate instructions payback, for Captain Artellian's conduct towards you."

I huffed a laugh of my own, "Caroline! That wasn't very nice of you."

She turned in the saddle and took a few torches from her pack, tying them to the outside deftly so they were within easy reach, for the sun was going to set at any moment.

"Wasn't it?" she asked mildly. "I thought I delivered the orders with ample courtesy, despite wanting to draw my sword and demand he apologise to you for the entire audience."

I laughed properly now. "That's not what I mean!"

Caroline turned back around on Ebony's saddle and pointed to me. "You should put on your helmet, my Lady."

I couldn't see her face through the helmet, but it sounded as though there was a smirk under there.

I shook my head, inwardly praising her subtlety, and did as she bade. Together, we now looked the part, as though we were two members of the Skingrad Guard, patrolling between Skingrad and Kvatch.

"What _were_ his instructions, then?" I asked, as I drew Ilaria up to walk next to Ebony, and then with a small click and gentle press of my heels into Ilaria's flank, increased her pace slightly, from walk to trot.

Caroline did the same, to match the new speed.

"A simple version of what I told the Captain," she replied. "Don't send too many in a single day, that most need to use the cave tunnel entrance, and for all new arrivals to assemble at the Chapel."

"Does the Countess, or Captain Burd know this?" I asked her. "What will they think of all these soldiers, mysteriously turning up in the city asking for instructions at the Chapel?"

Caroline nodded. "Burd knows of it. He thought it was a good idea, actually, because most travellers stop at the Chapel when they first arrive, as it is."

I nodded too. "That makes sense."

We fell into silence then, our horses' hooves beating out a steady rhythm along the Gold road.

The sun set; the clouds on the horizon turning pastel pink, then shortly after glowing gold along one edge. We slowed the horses and Caroline lit a torch and handed it to me.

"I wonder where the soldiers will stay?" I mused further, accepting the torch.

"Hmm?" Caroline flicked her wrist again, lighting her own torch, and then we continued on. "Oh, you mean once they reach Bruma? Yes, I wondered how they would house so many, too," she told me.

I nodded. "I don't think they expected us to gain fifty soldiers in total, let alone from Skingrad alone."

Caroline agreed, then added, "Unless the Countess has been able to evacuate most of the city already, which I doubt, I expect they will house the force in the castle, and send them out dressed as Bruma guards on patrols of the county, with camping gear, both to hide the numbers and be ready to act the moment an Oblivion gate forms."

That sounded sensible to me, and if Caroline had come up with such a notion after minor consideration, I was sure the Countess and Captain Burd would arrive at a similar conclusion.

Still, perhaps some warning from us would be welcome to them?

"I might write a letter to the Countess, and another to Martin," I mentioned lightly, more speaking my thoughts then relaying them to Caroline. "Careful letters of course," I added. "I am sure they'd appreciate updates on-"

"Shh!" Caroline held her hand up for me to stop. I tugged Ilaria's reigns without a second thought and the mare came to a halt, as did Ebony beside us.

I waited, listening, as Caroline held her torch up a little, and peered to the left of us, into the forest. I could hear...an owl, hooting mournfully. A rustle of leaves; probably an animal, perhaps even the same owl.

"What is it?" I hissed eventually.

Caroline held her hand up again, indicating for me to remain quiet.

I pursed my lips and listened again, but heard nothing unordinary.

Caroline wordlessly passed her reigns to me, and dismounted almost noiselessly. I wanted to ask what she had heard, but was determined not to make a sound, so I waved my free hand at her in the hope that it would convey my question to her.

She raked the helmet off her head; a little of her hair had fallen loose from its plait, and was plastered to her forehead with sweat. She put the helmet and her torch down on the road, then stood swiftly, putting her finger to her lips, then pointed into the forest beside the road. She looked wide-eyed, but not exactly afraid.

I shook my head at her. _Don't you dare go in there and leave me here_ , I wanted to say.

She nodded, then pointed to my bow, which was on my back, and made a motion with her arms and hands that I draw an arrow.

Hurriedly tying Ebony and Ilaria's reigns to a hook on the saddle, and throwing my torch down to the gravel road, beside Caroline's, I reached back for the bow and drew an arrow, my hands shaking a little.

 _From the cold_ , I lied to myself.

How quickly we had gone from laughter and the easy calmness of travelling in silence, to alert and afraid.

Caroline drew her sword and stepped into the woods, and I drew the arrow, aiming it at the tree line.

I waited.

Ilaria and Ebony huffed and snorted, as horses do, and I pointlessly willed them to be quiet as I kept my eyes trained on the place I had last seen Caroline before she had vanished into the gloom, and strained my ears to hear whatever it was that had given my bodyguard reason to stop and investigate.

I didn't have to wait long, and what I heard over the normal forest noises was not expected; _crying_. It was so out of place that I lowered my bow as I heard Caroline's voice within the woods, though I couldn't make out what she was saying.

The crying intensified, and I risked breaking my silence to call out, "Caroline?"

After a pause, Caroline called back to me. "It's all right. We're going to come out now. Aren't we?"

Insanely curious, but not willing to leave the horses and clamber into the woods myself simply to satisfy my curiosity faster, I returned the arrow I had drawn into its quiver, and re-slung my bow over my shoulder.

_What is going on?_

Caroline stepped back out onto the road shortly, her arm around a small, shadowed figure, who was sniffling and in the process of wiping his arm across his nose.

I pulled my helmet off my head, so I could see better, as I recognised who she lead.

"Hod?" I asked, frowning. "What are you doing out here on your own?"

As I asked the question, a chill began to creep its way up my spine, and the cool night breeze blew some of my hair out of its plait.

"See?" Caroline pointed to me, and ducked down to the little boy. "It is as I promised. The Hero of Kvatch! Remember her?"

Hod nodded as he looked up at me, his face blotchy from crying.

I forced a smile, and glanced at Caroline. What was going on?

Caroline's smile was also very forced, as was the cheer in her voice. "Might Hod ride up front with you, my Lady?" she asked. "There is more room on your saddle, than there is on mine."

"Oh, um, yes, of course," I blinked, agreeing to whatever plan Caroline had, and asked Hod, "Are you bound for Kvatch, little Master?" I tried to sound kind, though I wasn't sure how to address children and had always felt a little nervous around them. What would I do if he burst into tears?

Hod didn't answer, but turned and looked up to Caroline, the tears fresh in his eyes.

"Yes," Caroline answered swiftly, picking Hod up under the arms as though he weighed nothing, and passing him to me. I hurriedly put my helmet down on my pack behind me, and took hold of him, and together we settled the child onto the saddle in front of me.

"Kvatch?" Hod turned back to look up at me, the fear both in his voice and eyes, which I could see from being so close to him were a warm brown colour. He sniffed, and looking down at him, I had the sudden thought that he was quite a bit younger than I had first thought he was; perhaps only three or four years old. This made me even more nervous. "Raddin said Anvil?" Hod added in a small, watery voice.

"Yes, we're bound for Anvil after Kvatch," I told him quickly, passing Ebony's reigns back to Caroline as she motioned for them. She had both our torches, and extinguished one of them before mounting up.

 _And where is Raddin_ , I wanted to ask, but didn't. I shot her another questioning look, and she shook her head slightly, her eyes grim.

I pursed my lips. Answers would have to wait, but her reluctance to speak it now told me that what she had to report wasn't good.

"Would you like some food, Hod?" Caroline asked him in a comradely way from atop Ebony, then nodded back toward her pack, where it was stashed.

The mention of something to eat seemed enough to distract the boy, and soon he was munching away on bread in one hand and an apple in the other.

"Better put our helmets back on, my Lady," Caroline said softly, once Hod was occupied.

I wondered why we were bothering to maintain the Skingrad guards guise, now there was a small child included in our party, but did as she asked, slipping the helmet back on. We then urged our horses onward along the road, and away from whatever Caroline and Hod had left in the forest.

After Hod had drifted off into what felt like a deep sleep, slumped against me, his head on my arm that I had wrapped around his shoulders, I was able to ask Caroline how she had found him.

"I heard crying," she told me in a lowered tone. "The sound stopped, almost as soon as we did. But I couldn't ignore it."

I nodded for her to continue, but asked, "And his mother?"

Caroline grimaced. "Gone. As was Enith."

"And Raddin?"

Caroline shook her head. "He was there, as were the horses."

"Dead?" I confirmed, swallowing a lump that had risen in my throat.

She nodded.

I cast my eyes down to the sleeping child on my arm. "And Hod was just...sitting there, with the dead bodies?" I asked, feeling nauseated.

"He was using the upturned cart as a shelter," Caroline explained, in a low voice. "When he recognised me he rather bravely said that he was waiting for his mama to come back. Only started crying again when I told him that he'd have to come with us," she explained, "and then only agreed to come when I said the Hero of Kvatch was with me, up on the road."

I sighed and looked up to the road ahead. It was straight, and fairly flat, the trees and rocks creating dark shadows either side, with stars twinkling through the gaps, though there was some cloud cover directly overhead. "Was it the Mythic Dawn?" I asked her gingerly.

Caroline hesitated, but eventually replied with a quiet, "There was a sun motif, painted on Raddin's forehead."

I cursed, as my heart raced and the memory of finding Ebel with the sun symbol painted on his forehead with his own blood pushed its way to the front of my mind. It seemed like such a long time ago. Ebel's startlingly similar appearance to Martin made the memory all the more painful and my breath caught in my throat.

"But..." I began thickly, with frustration, "why attack _them_? Surely if the Dawn knew we had been on that cart, they would have also known that we had left it."

I trailed off as Hod stirred in front of me, and Caroline and I maintained silence for a while, until he settled, his head leaning heavily on my encircling arm once more. The poor little kid must have been exhausted, because it didn't look like that comfortable a position.

Caroline's response came as a loud whisper. "Perhaps not. Why take the two women on the cart instead of killing them, as they did the farmer?" she shrugged. "If they were sent to retrieve you, they might have assumed you were under the influence of an Alteration spell, as you were last time they managed to capture you," she added sombrely. "Which, for a time, you were," she added pointedly.

I told myself to calm down as I let Caroline's words sink in, dimly aware that neither of us were clinging to a hope that the Mythic Dawn _hadn't_ been trying to find me when they'd attacked Raddin's cart. It was too precise a hit, and too soon after the nightmare I had experienced of being located by Mankar Camoran. Given the distance we were from Skingrad, and remembering the ambling pace that the cart had travelled at, I reasoned they must have been attacked the previous night, perhaps while Caroline and I had been asleep, safe in Castle Skingrad.

 _You caused this_ , I told myself darkly, as I felt shame overcome me for leaving Raddin and the others to continue the journey on their own. Caroline and I might have been able to help, had we still been with them when the Dawn had descended upon them. I clenched my eyes closed for a moment, as I felt tears pool in my eyes.

 _It happened_ , I replied to myself sternly, trying to find perspective and reason. _Do you really think you could have helped? You would now be in the hands of the Mythic Dawn, and Caroline, and likely all of the others, would be dead._

Despite knowing this to be true, I felt an irrefutable guilt.

I made myself look down at the sleeping child in front of me, and let the tears fall down my cheeks, though I made no sound, so Caroline wouldn't know that I cried, thanks to the helmet I was wearing.

How had little Hod survived the attack, I wondered bleakly? He must have hidden himself somehow. The Dawn weren't likely to show mercy because of his age, if they thought he was an ally of mine.

And what of his mother, and the elderly Enith? Was there any saving them, or was it too late?

 _You don't have time for rescue missions,_ my mother's voice snapped at me.

I willed myself to shut up. No, I didn't personally have time to pursue them. But I could find someone to, and pay them if I had to, when we reached Kvatch. Someone who might be able to track them, and determine what had happened to the others, for Hod's sake, if not to assuage my guilt.

As it was, I had no idea what we would do with Hod once we reached Kvatch, because there was no question of him accompanying us beyond Kvatch; not if the Mythic Dawn were aware of my travelling, perhaps even my purpose, and were actively searching for me.


	30. The Illusion of Cause

As we left the Gold road and turned onto the winding approach road to Kvatch, a warm breeze buffeted against me.

The warmth was out of place; it had been a chilly night so far. The breeze brought with it the smell of the pine trees of the wooded area before us, and the promise of rain, later, but underneath it was a burned, sulphurous smell that made me frown.

It was an echo of the same smell that had greeted me last time I had approached Kvatch; before Oblivion, and before Martin. Before any of this. How long ago had it been? A month? Two?

The approach road widened as it ascended, curving around a particularly large boulder, and Caroline brought Ebony up close beside us, and leaned slightly closer.

"Don't be alarmed, my Lady," she said in an undertone, "But we are being followed."

I tried not to react, but caught my breath as I sat straighter, my muscles tensing. I gripped Ilaria's reigns tighter with one hand, as I held Hod to me more securely with my other arm.

"Where are they? How many?" I whispered urgently.

We'd moved around the boulder, and were on another straight incline, the warm breeze blowing down the hill from Kvatch pushing against us again.

Caroline eased Ebony back, so we were riding single file once more. "It looks like one of your saddle straps has come undone – let's stop a moment, and I'll fasten it for you," she said in a louder, more natural sounding voice.

My heart hammered as I replied to her, trying to sound as steady as she did. "All right."

We stopped and I heard Caroline dismount onto the gravel. I fought every instinct telling me to turn, because I didn't want it to be obvious that I was searching all directions for whoever or whatever was following us. Instead I unclamped my hand from Ilaria's reigns and pressed the back of it to Hod's face, checking that he wasn't too cold; he was fine.

 _What are we going to do with him if we needed to fight our way free of attackers?_ I nearly groaned aloud as the thought crossed my mind, realising that I couldn't possibly hold onto him, whether he was awake or asleep, and fire my bow. I would have to dismount and tell him to ride on for Kvatch without us. If he could even ride on his own.

Caroline was beside us then, and began fiddling with the saddle strap; unfastening, then refastening it.

"Just one," she spoke, her whisper rasping through the guard helmet covering her face. "More than one would have shown themselves before now. They're using some sort of Illusion spell or potion, to hide themselves, I think."

"Where?" I whispered, then turned to her, pretending to look at what she was doing. "How did that come undone?" I asked in a louder voice.

"You probably didn't fasten it properly to begin with," she patted the straps down, her fake task completed. She raised her head up to me, and I wished I could see her eyes, what they were trying to tell me. All I could see was a black strip of shadow across the eye slit of the helmet. "Ride fast for Kvatch," she said, in the softer voice again. "I will deal with our pursuer, then follow."

"No!" I hissed at her, as she walked away without waiting for my response, back toward Ebony.

Hod startled awake when I called after Caroline, and he turned quickly to look up at me.

I clenched my teeth. "It's all right," I told him quickly, ducking down a little to get closer to his ear, and holding onto him more securely. "We're nearing Kvatch, little Master."

"Go, now!" Caroline ordered quietly as she rode Ebony up beside us.

Hod swivelled in the saddle again and stared at Caroline as she drew to a halt. I silently willed him not to cry. I wondered if he had thought that our finding him and the subsequent ride had been a dream, because he seemed very startled.

"Go where?" he asked Caroline loudly.

"Get down!" Caroline screamed suddenly, pretence dropped.

I heard a whirring sound, a hum of magic, as Caroline flung her arm over me, and I was pressed down, and forward, onto Ilaria's back. Hod yelped as a bolt of bright white shock magic flew over our heads, crackling and fizzing as it hit a tree beyond us and and dissipated on the other side of the road.

"Go!" Caroline let go of me, and as I sat back up I saw her dismount and draw her sword.

"I'm not leaving you!" I called out to Caroline as I clung onto Hod and turned to look back into the woods, where the spell had been cast from. I could see only shadows and trees. "Let me help!" I added, straining to see through the gloom, though if it was as Caroline said, and they were using Illusion magic to hide themselves, it would do me no good.

Caroline didn't argue further with me, but with an audible whack to Ilaria's flank, the horse jolted forward into a run, and I realised my bodyguard had propelled her into action. I leaned down as we were catapulted forwards, and reached desperately for the reigns so we wouldn't fall off as Hod cried out in alarm and leaned over, wrapping his little arms around Ilaria's neck.

Behind us, I heard Caroline cry out in anger and the sound of shock magic tore through the air again.

I narrowed my eyes and I focussed on doing as Caroline had instructed; get to Kvatch. I had to get Hod to safety, after all. But once he was out of danger, I would go back and help Caroline, and find out who was pursuing us.

I had no doubt that our pursuer was with the Mythic Dawn; in which case, I did not want Caroline to have to fight them alone. Caroline was a phenomenal close-range fighter, but if her attacker used long-range destructive spells and had a way to hide from her, I worried that she might not be able to get near enough, and would be limited to evading attack until she tired. Caroline's own abilities with magic were largely Illusion-based; Candlelight spells and the like, and they would not help her win such a fight.

The sooner I could return to her with my bow, the better.

Hod called out fearfully to me but the noise of Ilaria's hooves beating along the gravel prevented me from hearing what he said.

"We have to get to Kvatch," I called to him. "Just a little further."

Ilaria slowed only slightly to round another sharp corner, and as I pressed my heels into her again to pick up the pace we cleared the woodland, and found ourselves on a barren plain with an uninterrupted view of what remained of Kvatch.

The sight was enough to make me sit up, and I gaped. There were no trees remaining, and no more boulders; just a sparse covering of the Colovian region's trademark yellow grass. The area had been purposely, and completely, cleared, since my last visit.

 _Building materials,_ I told myself reasonably, then shook my head and lowered myself over Ilaria again, so we could move faster.

_No time for this. Focus._

While I could no longer hear the sounds of Caroline and our pursuer fighting in the woods behind us, with no barriers in front of us I could hear a multitude of sounds coming from the settlement ahead; not from Kvatch itself, which was a shadow between the land and night's sky, but from a large, heavily illuminated village that had sprung up outside of Kvatch's walls. Tents fluttered like ships sails and smoke from campfires puffed upwards and turned sharply westward, as the warm breeze that seemed to be emanating from the main city caught it.

With a fear for Caroline that felt thick in my throat, I noticed two white-clad Kvatch guards running toward us, bearing torches and longswords. I saw another guard at a crude-looking entry point to the encampment draw a longbow, the arrow trained on me.

 _Maybe they'll come back to Caroline with me,_ I thought, as I sat up in the saddle again, and waved my arms at them.

"Help!" I cried out. "We were attacked, back in the woods!"

I halted Ilaria as the two approaching guards reached us, and grabbed Hod under the arms, urging him off the horse and into the closest guard's arms.

"Huh – who is this?" the guard seemed perplexed as he dropped his sword to take hold of the boy.

"What's going on here?" the other demanded of me.

"There's no time," I cut them off, nodding back into the woods, and turning Ilaria around as I did. "I have to go back," I said quickly. "Please, will you help me?"

"Someone shot lightning at us," Hod told the guard holding him, excitement in his voice.

"Slow down!" the other guard said to me roughly, grabbing Ilaria's reigns.

I tried to tug them back, my heart hammering as I realised they would continue questioning me, and I needed to act. "She could be dead already!"

"Who?"

"If you won't help me, then let me go!"

"Explain first!" the guard barked.

I cried out in frustration, and raked the Skingrad guard helmet from my head, throwing it to the gravel road. The warm breeze whipped at my hair, sending it flying back from my face.

"Don't you understand?" I cried. "My friend is still back there, fighting whoever attacked us," I tugged at Ilaria's reigns again as the horse's hooves padded the ground in an agitated manner. This time the reigns came free of the Kvatch guard's grip. "Are you with me or not?"

Without waiting for their answer, I spurred Ilaria on and leaned down as we raced back toward the woods.

"Hey, wait!" I heard the guard calling out behind me. I noticed he no longer sounded so commanding, and rather more baffled, and at the back of my thoughts where I wasn't worried for Caroline, I wondered if he might have recognised me.

 _If they didn't,_ I told myself as I rode, _Hod will tell them who you are, soon._

I heard a few more shouts and calls from the direction of the Kvatch camp, but paid it no mind as I rounded the corner of the road and plunged back into the wooded section.

The sounds coming from the Kvatch settlement were silenced immediately, and Ilaria's hooves beating against the gravel was the loudest noise again, challenged only by the sound of my thundering heart, thumping loudly in my ears.

 _Please be all right, Caroline,_ I willed.

I drew Ilaria to a halt next to Ebony, who had remained where Caroline had dismounted. The horse looked quite edgy, and nervous, as though she wanted to flee. A lesser-trained horse would have.

Dismounting swiftly, I left Ilaria with her, and grabbed my bow from my shoulder and an arrow from from the quiver, raising both in readiness as I raced for the tree line.

I inhaled, paused, and listened when I reached it, pressing against one of the tree trunks, my eyes roving around the dark woods for signs of movement. I could hear fighting again – swords clashing, the occasional snap of magic - though wasn't sure how far away it was, and wasn't even certain which direction it was coming from.

Then from up on the road, I could hear the steady beat of many horses hooves, and turned, arrow ready to fire, to see four Kvatch guards drawing their mounts to a halt beside Ilaria and Ebony.

"Over here!" I called out, lowering my bow to raise my hands. One of the guards spotted me waving. I turned back and started moving through the woods in the direction I thought the fighting sounds were coming from, grateful in the knowledge that I had some support.

My arrow nocked and ready to fire again, I stepped around logs and leaped over small rocks, uncaring of how much sound I made in my approach, because the two fighting would be too distracted by one another to notice me.

I halted at the edge of a small clearing, which in the dullness of the clouded night I could see a ring of low stones, set out in an unnaturally circular ceremonial fashion. Within the circle was Caroline, and our attacker, who was wearing long robes but had a flickering, insubstantial form. I hesitated as I spotted our pursuer, watching the fight as Caroline leaped forward and slashed with her sword. The other form dodged, shimmering, then became even more hazy again around the edges and raised a hand.

 _Chameleon spell,_ I noted.

A dark staff was in the outstretched hand. I raised my bow and fired at the attacker, as a bolt of bright white electrical energy erupted from the staff towards Caroline.

"Get down!" I screamed as my arrow flew straight past the figure, close to the raised hand, but not close enough to knock the staff away.

The figure turned towards me immediately, its head flicking from side to side to locate, and I was glad to have distracted it from my bodyguard for a moment, despite alerting them to my presence. I noticed Caroline roll out of the way of the spell in time, and then she was on her feet again, rushing forward with an enraged cry toward our assailant.

The haze around the figure dissipated as it raised both its arms to block Caroline's attack; the staff in one hand, and a short sword in the other. Their weapons clashed spectacularly and the sound rang out through the trees.

The clouds that had been threatening rain all night parted, and in a sparse, milky moonlight, I could see our pursuer more properly for the first time. They were tall, and quite thin, and wore the distinctive red cloak of the Mythic Dawn.

One of the Kvatch guards reached my hiding spot, arrow nocked and ready to fire, and I shook myself back into action.

I had no reason to be surprised by their appearance; who else would bother pursuing us?

The Dawn agent pushed against Caroline, propelling them away from one another, and once again, the moment they were apart, the figure pointed its staff at Caroline.

"Now!" I called to the guard beside me, and let loose my own arrow, just as the staff let go of another blazing bolt of lighting. I'm not sure which of our arrows hit, but one of them did, and no sooner had the spell left the staff, the attacker cried out, their leg crumpling under them.

As I grabbed for another arrow, I noticed in my peripheral that Caroline was moving forward again, but froze as I heard her scream in pain. I paled, whipping around, and ran toward her, bolting out of the tree cover and into the clearing.

She was nursing her arm; the bolt must have caught her after all. But she was alive.

Three of the Kvatch guards leaped into the clearing after me and raced toward the injured Mythic Dawn agent, surrounding them and holding their swords out in a demand for surrender.

I nocked an arrow as I skidded to a halt between Caroline and our attacker, turning and raising my bow to aim at the hooded figure.

"Drop the staff!" I cried out, my voice shaking, though I wasn't sure if it was in fear or anger.

The Dawn agent lifted their head, though all I could see under the hood was shadow. Their form began to shimmer again, around the edges, and two of the Kvatch guards raced forward and grabbed the figure by the arms, hauling them to their feet. The arrow which had struck the agent was sticking out at about thigh height.

"Enough! You have lost." one of the guards said, as the two restraining guards shook our attacker free of their weapons. The staff and short sword fell to the grassy ground with a dull thud and the Kvatch guard that wasn't restraining the Mythic Dawn agent kicked them further away.

Caroline stepped up beside me, still holding onto her shoulder, panting, and a quick glance told me that she was okay, but angry. "Careful," she called out to the guards as she eased the Skingrad guard helmet off, throwing it down onto the moss. "She's a-"

One of the guards holding the Dawn agent yelped and leaped back as a smaller bolt of cracking energy formed in her hand.

They – she – then raised her hand toward us, but before she could fire again, the third Kvatch guard leaped forward and drove a dagger into her outstretched hand, to prevent the casting.

The woman howled out in pain, throwing her head back, as the three guards descended on her and bound her wrists, palms pressed together, to stop her from casting any more spells. The fourth guard, who'd fired the arrow next to me in the trees, hurried forward then too, but they had her under control again before he reached them.

In the struggle, the hood of her cloak fell from her head and I realised, with a jolt quite like a bolt of lightning itself, that _I knew her_.

I lowered my bow; my eyes widened. "You're..."

"Ruma Camoran," Caroline supplied, spitting the name darkly.

The guards had the hateful Altmer woman on her knees, and she looked up at us from under her lashes darkly, and smirked. "Sarina, how sweet. You do remember me."

One of the guards restraining Ruma shook her by the arm. "Hey! That is no way to address the Hero of Kvatch, witch!"

 _So, they did recognise me_ , I noted, grateful they had followed me so that Caroline and I didn't have to face the daughter of Mankar Camoran on our own.

Ruma Camoran threw her head back and laughed, heartily and with an edge of malice, to the sky.

Seeing her bound, yet gloating, made me _very_ nervous and I had to use all of my willpower to remain standing tall, instead of shrinking back behind Caroline. The events at Lake Arrius washed over me but I pushed the rising fear back and repeated to myself; _face her, for Martin's sake_. I forced a mask of serenity over me, telling myself to be present but to not engage with her; not give her what she wanted.

Caroline stormed forward, her shoulder injury smoking slightly but apparently forgotten; I assumed that the heat of the shock spell had both injured her and cauterised the wound. She held her sword out, point first, aimed at Ruma's throat. The Altmer woman stopped laughing, and sighed, staring at Caroline's blade.

"Ruma Camoran," Caroline grated in a low tone. "By the authority of the Blades, I command you to be silent, unless I permit you to speak."

Ruma turned her eyes lazily upward from Caroline's sword point, to meet my bodyguard's gaze.

"Or what, dog?" she looked bored, and I wondered that the woman didn't appear more nervous, when she had lost the fight, been captured and disarmed, and was at our mercy. "You'll slit my throat?"

Not that I thought anyone in our party felt she deserved mercy. I rallied my courage and stepped forward to stand next to Caroline, staring down at the woman. Ruma's triumphant leer shifted to me, and I made myself maintain the gaze of the Altmer woman who had been hunting me.

Caroline's sword arm was steady, unfaltering, and she huffed a noise which almost sounded like a laugh. "I am not kind enough to give you the death you and your obscene kind crave," she said in a dark voice that sent chills along my spine.

"Do we take her back to camp?" one of the Kvatch guards asked Caroline.

She shook her head. "No, not her," Caroline said, her voice still dark. "This is the daughter of the madman who ordered the opening of the Oblivion gates in the name of Mehrunes Dagon," she told them, and I heard one of the guards gasp, but didn't check their reactions further. "If you take her to the camp, and she'll be torn to pieces before she's been able to tell us anything useful," Caroline finished.

I heard Caroline speaking but remained focussed on Ruma Camoran, steeling myself against the fear her presence invoked in me, and building a wall within myself against her, so I could be brave, and be the Hero the Kvatch guards expected me to be.

But then what Caroline had said registered in me and I couldn't help but smile a little, realising that she was right; we could question Ruma, and perhaps, _finally_ , I would understand why the Mythic Dawn were hunting me.

There was a tiny flicker of uncertainty in Ruma's eyes when I smiled, then she turned away from me to laugh disdainfully at Caroline. "You think I will _talk_? Oh, you poor little thing," she shook her head, tutting at Caroline as though she was a child.

Another of the Kvatch guards spoke up, "Lady Blade, you must give her to Kvatch," he said urgently. "The people, the families she and her kind have devastated deserve to mete out her justice."

"I am no Lady," Caroline said quietly, lowering her sword and sighing. "But, I am sorry. You are right. You may take her to the Kvatch barracks to stand trial or lead her directly to her execution, as you like," she added, holding up a steady hand out to Ruma, "on one condition."

I looked at Caroline, wondering how to tell her we couldn't let this woman out of our sight; she would escape, kill everyone in her path and then pursue us again.

Caroline took a step closer to Ruma Camoran, leaning down so that her face was only inches from the Altmer woman's.

Nothing seemed to happen, and one of the Kvatch guards spoke finally; "Your condition, Lady?"

"No!" Ruma Camoran suddenly cried out. The Kvatch guards restraining her held her fast as the woman in custody struggled and glared up at Caroline, before baring her teeth and grinding them together as she clenched her eyes closed and cried out again, in apparent turmoil.

Caroline's good arm shot forward, and she turned Ruma Camoran's head by the chin roughly so they were facing one another once more.

"Open your eyes," Caroline commanded softly, her calm voice sounding strange coming from her, considering the force in her accompanying movements. A faint blue light flowed from Caroline's hand and washed over Ruma's face in steady wave after wave, and I realised that she was casting an Illusion spell, though I wasn't certain of which, on the Altmer woman.

I paled a little, as I watched Ruma Camoran do as Caroline bade, and open her eyes.

"Good," Caroline spoke in the same even tone, letting go of the woman's chin, then motioned for me to join her. "On the condition," she answered the guard finally, "that Lady Passero and I retrieve what we need from her first, here and now."

I hurried forward, unable to miss this chance, my eyes glued to the now calm face. How long would the spell last? Would Ruma would be truthful in her answers?

"My Lady," Caroline said steadily. "Ask what you need to know."

Ruma's gaze was still trained on Caroline, blinking mildly, her expression blank, and I shuddered.

"All right," I found my voice, clearing my throat a little, and decided to start with something that I already knew part of the answer to, to test her. "Tell me, Ruma Camoran, how to open a gateway to follow your father into his Paradise."

The enraptured woman didn't look at or answer me, as though I wasn't there. Caroline inclined her head and said hurriedly, "Oh, yes. Sorry," to me, and then, "You will answer all questions put to you by Lady Passero," to Ruma.

She kept her eyes on Caroline, but started speaking immediately. She spoke of gathering four magical objects and of an incantation, but details were scant.

"Yes, but what objects, what _specifically_ are the four keys required to open the porthole?" I asked, cutting her off. If she talked of the Great Welkynd stone, blood of the Divines, and blood of the Daedra, I would know she was speaking truth, _and_ I would learn what the second key was, and be able to write it in a letter to Martin, so one of the Blades might set about retrieving it.

"I do not know," Ruma Camoran droned. "That is a matter for my father, and Lord Dagon."

I rolled my eyes. "All right. Then tell me of the Mythic Dawn's plans for Bruma."

This I _knew_ that she knew, since she had penned the spies orders that spoke of their intention to open the Great Gate.

Caroline's hand eased forward, touching Ruma lightly on the temple this time, and more light blue Illusion magic flowed from her hand and over the Altmer, though the woman didn't seem to notice it.

"By Lord Dagon's grace, we shall open a Great Gate at the city of Bruma's southern gate, allowing the daedra's siege engine to emerge and sack the city, after which it and the hoards will descend upon Cloud Ruler Temple, destroying it, and the last Septim," she said in a monotone.

I suppressed a shudder again at her words. Reading the Mythic Dawn's plans written in a note, and hearing them spoken by this woman with more detail and confidence of success, were two very seperate things.

"Siege engine," one of the Kvatch guards muttered darkly. "They're going to do to Bruma what they did to us?"

"Yes. Only worse, this time," Caroline turned up to face the guards grimly. "Because, as she said," Caroline nodded to Ruma, "the last remaining heir to the Septim line, and last hope for Tamriel to keep Mehrunes Dagon at bay, is being kept near Bruma. Should the city fall and the daedra continue on to Cloud Ruler Temple, he will certainly be killed."

A lump had formed in my throat, and I tried to swallow, shaking my head a little to stop tears from forming in the corners of my eyes. _Do not waste this time,_ I commanded myself.

"Can't you move him out of harm's way, if you know where the attack will be coming from?" one of the guards asked.

I shook my head. "We can discuss this later. Ruma Camoran," I steadied myself, refocussing now that I knew she would speak truth when questioned. "Why did you pursue us tonight? Why are your people hunting me down?" I said, my heart racing as I tried to stop myself from yelling. "What do you _want_ from me?"

Ruma Camoran hesitated before answering this time, and I noticed Caroline raise her hand and ready another spell in the corner of my vision.

"That is a matter for my father, and Lord Dagon," Ruma said.

I clenched my teeth in frustration, as Caroline leaned forward to administer another dose of whatever spell it was that was making Ruma so compliant.

"Why do _you_ believe they are after Lady Passero?" Caroline asked steadily, as the blue coming from her hands faded.

The Altmer didn't hesitate this time. "Because she was the one chosen by the Septims."

I glanced at Caroline, frustrated. This still wasn't a proper reason, and Caroline returned my look, and shrugged. "Explain further what you mean," she urged.

Ruma seemed to sigh now, slumping slightly in the Kvatch guards arms, and I inwardly willed her to hurry up and speak, worried suddenly that she was about to pass out, perhaps from the injury to her leg. I couldn't tell how much blood she had lost, in the darkness.

"My Lord Dagon took my father's hand and lead him to a scroll, which no man could read without suffering dire consequences in recompense for the scroll's truths."

 _An Elder scroll_ , I wondered? A feeling of dread weighed me down, settling in the pit of my stomach. Elder scrolls were extremely odd objects, shrouded in layers of prophecy and uncertainty. There were several in the White-Gold Tower, which nobody but those trained were permitted to read, and even then the risk of blindness and madness was high. The only time I had seen the scrolls, they had been covered in a thick layer of dust in a securely-locked cabinet.

Mehrunes Dagon had lead Mankar Camoran to an Elder scroll?

"But through Lord Dagon's instructions my father found a way," Ruma continued, "and through the blessed scroll, he was able to look down upon Mundus throughout time, at all that could come to pass," she explained.

If Mankar Camoran _had_ read an Elder scroll, as well as the Mysterium Xarxes, it would explain _quite a lot_ of his madness.

"He saw that she who was chosen by the Septims formed a convergence in our time, at which all His designs might be either won or lost, or simultaneously won and lost," she added, without emotion.

I felt the Kvatch guards and Caroline regarding me one by one, but kept my gaze locked on Ruma Camoran, wishing she would explain more plainly so that what she said made more sense, even if she was only relaying why she _thought_ they had been given the order to find me.

"How?" I asked her, when she didn't continue. "What am I supposed to do?"

"That is a matter for my father, and Lord Dagon."

"Stop saying that!" I demanded through my teeth.

"Ruma," Caroline cut in loudly, quickly. "What are your orders regarding the retrieval of Lady Passero?"

She answered immediately, again. "Sarina Passero is to be sacrificed to my Lord Dagon whereupon the threads containing her influence will align; her blood bound to Lord Dagon, and her soul bound to my father's realm."

"Not likely," Caroline said in an undertone, shaking her head, then raised her voice. "Why does your father want her soul?"

"That is a matter for my father, and Lord Dagon."

Caroline drew her sword again with a frustrated cry, and raised it, stopping the point close to Ruma Camoran's throat again.

I took a step back, feeling strangely detached from all that had been said, realising that even what she had told me made little sense. It sounded as though the Mythic Dawn thought I was part of some prophecy, spun together from Camoran's interpretation of an Elder scroll. Which meant that they were, and had been all along, hunting me down for _things I hadn't done yet_.

"I will find your people another to stand trial for all that has befallen Kvatch," Caroline spoke to the guards, her eyes trained, bright and dangerous, on Ruma.

Watching the woman who would have me sacrificed, and who had undoubtedly killed countless before me in the name of her father and the Daedric Prince she worshipped, I felt a wrongness overcoming me as I saw her blink up at Caroline, awaiting instructions, oblivious to the blade at her throat.

I reached out, resting my hand on my bodyguard's sword arm. "Don't, Caroline. Let them have her," I said quietly. "What she says is only an assumption, and not even the whole truth."

"It is enough, my Lady, to condemn her to a traitor's death, here and now," Caroline's voice shook, and she neither took her eyes off Ruma, nor lowered her sword. "This one does _not_ deserve your grace."

"Believe me, I am not thinking about doing her a kindness," I gripped Caroline's arm a little tighter. "Please."

 _For your sake_ , I added as an afterthought, but did not speak the thought aloud.

Caroline let her arm be lowered by mine, though she kept her sword in her hand.

"One final question," I said with a sigh, stepping between Ruma and Caroline, staring into the eyes of Camoran's daughter. They were glassy, but still made me want to baulk.

"What are your orders regarding Martin Septim?" I asked evenly.

Ruma blinked comfortably, and said emotionlessly, "The Septim is to be killed on sight."

 _What did you expect_ , I asked myself? I nodded at her confirmation, and turned, looking up to the trees in the direction of the road, and our horses. "Well then," I sighed, my breath shaking as it left me. "It is late. We should take her to Kvatch."

I started making for the trees, toward the road, and slung my bow back over my shoulder. I watched each step I took, knowing that eventually the others would follow me.

Caroline was speaking to the guards. "All right, you heard the Lady. I've Charmed her again, which should make it easier to escort her to your barracks," she said, and I realised she wasn't behind me yet because she had been casting another spell on Ruma.

"Once there, it is up to you and the rest of your company to ensure she does not escape," Caroline added, a hint of a warning in her instructions.

I reached the tree line, and placed my hand on a trunk, steadying myself as I turned back, to see how far away the others were before I stepped into the gloom.

They were heading toward me now, Caroline a little closer than the others. Ruma Camoran was hunched over while she limped between two of the Kvatch guards, though her face continued to betray no emotion owing to what Caroline had announced to be a Charm spell.

 _And what if Caroline had not known such a spell,_ I asked myself? _Would Ruma have told you anything?_

I turned back and stepped into the woods, taking great care where I placed my feet, desperate for something to distract me from my thoughts, but they spun and wound about each other, forcing me to examine what she had revealed.

 _Does what she told you change anything,_ I asked myself eventually, frustrated.

No. In relation to my current objective, the knowledge Ruma had relayed changed nothing, it was merely further confirmation that the Dawn were looking for me, and had orders to kill Martin.

And even then, as I had told Caroline, despite Ruma's beliefs, there was no certainty behind her reasoning of why her father had ordered the Dawn to find me. It was her own, personal, albeit more educated, perspective.

I stepped up onto the road, reaching for Ilaria's saddle and hoisting myself onto her.

Caroline was not far behind me, and mounted Ebony with a sigh and wince.

"How is your arm?" I asked her, feeling flat.

She shook her head. "It's nothing," she grimaced, looking around. "Where's Hod?"

"With a guard, up at the Kvatch gate," I told her, clicking my heels into Ilaria's flank and we started to move up the road.

We rode in silence for a moment, and behind us, I could hear the guards, leading Ruma Camoran, making steady progress behind us.

"What do you think they'll do with her?" I asked Caroline, frowning.

Caroline hesitated. "I don't know. Public trial and execution?" she mused bleakly. "I hope that they imprison her for the rest of her days, but I worry that no prison will hold her for long," she shook her head now. "Perhaps I was wrong in saying Kvatch could take her. The Grandmaster will be furious with me."

We rounded the final wooded corner of the road, and started across the barren plain leading up to the makeshift Kvatch settlement.

"No he won't," I reasoned, pleased to be talking about something other than what Ruma had revealed. "We have other matters to take care of. What would we do with her? Take her with us around Cyrodiil? Or give up on acquiring the army for Bruma, and return to Cloud Ruler Temple immediately," I had another thought, and added, "where Martin is? We couldn't take her there."

Caroline huffed, but didn't respond, her eyes on the camp. One of the gate guards from before approached us, slowly, holding a torch in one arm. I knew it was the guard from before, because Hod was on his other arm, his eyes wide like a little owl.

"Forget something?" the guard asked us, indicating the boy.

Caroline grinned and dismounted, her manner shifting so easily from despair to cheerfulness that I envied her. "You haven't been keeping the guard from his duties, have you Hod?"

"No!" Hod said defensively. "I've been helping," he insisted proudly.

"Have you now?" she asked, moving to them, then began talking to the guard about arranging accommodation for us.

I left her to it, pleased that nothing was required of me at that moment. I looked up to the dark walls of Kvatch, remembering the last time I had been here, on this road, facing down the Oblivion gate that stood between Martin and I.

 _I will need to write those letters, when I have a chance,_ I reminded myself, averting my eyes from the lifeless city and looking instead at the lively camp Caroline was gaining us entry to.

The guards who'd helped us in capturing Ruma Camoran reached us, and I noticed that we were attracting a curious crowd, just within the gates of the settlement, despite the late hour.

I would need to locate Captain Matius to ask about sending as many guards Kvatch could spare to Bruma, but reasoned that given how late we had arrived, and that over the course of the day, Caroline and I had closed an Oblivion gate, taken audience with a vampire (twice), travelled from Skingrad and assisted in the capture of one of the high-ranking Mythic Dawn agents, finding the Captain could wait until morning.

As though to signal the end of our busy day, it finally began to rain.


	31. Heroes

When I woke the next morning it was still relatively dark, and the air was cool and damp. I could hear rain outside, pattering on the tent canvas. The smell of wet horse and smoke permeated the air.

All of my muscles hurt; legs, back, arms – even my stomach - and I winced as I rolled onto my side to look to the bed beside mine. Caroline was asleep with heavy woollen blankets bundled around her.

I eased myself up, my movements slow and deliberate. The previous day's exertions had very much taken their toll.

Perhaps we _had_ overdone it, I thought, but neither of us had wanted to stay in Skingrad so we had pushed ourselves. I leaned down to both stretch my back and massage my calves, wishing that Martin was here with his Healing magic, to ease the aches and pains away as he ran his hands over my tired and aching body.

And _this_ thought created a new ache, another that I _really_ didn't need at that moment, as I was reminded of how much I missed him. While I stretched I allowed myself a moment to long for Martin. Having never known what it was to properly desire someone, I wasn't entirely certain how to manage the stirring feeling thoughts about Martin's hands on my body invoked and resorted to childishly flushing, but the simple truth was that I missed _all_ of him, and all that we had become in our short time together at Cloud Ruler Temple. I missed his kindness and smiles; the sound of his voice; his intelligence as we mulled over a passage from the _Xarxes_ , or his lightness as we cursed Caroline's training methods; I even missed his mussed up hair and ink-stained fingertips. I missed my friend.

Sniffing again, I realised with a grimace that the wet horse smell was coming from _me._ Stepping gingerly around our beds, since I couldn't see very well in the darkness, I shuffled to the table at the back of the tent. I lit a lantern, and tugged the wick down low so that the light wouldn't disturb Caroline, before turning to the bowls of water on the table, stripping off the underclothes I had slept in and scrubbing myself down properly with the now-icy water.

The tent we had been shown to was quite a bit more permanent than I had expected it to be, but was starkly bare, as though it had never been used. I had briefly wondered why the tent was erected if nobody was dwelling in it, before I had crashed into one of the beds and wondered no more.

We had passed several tents just like it. Ours was part of a grouping of tents that ran alongside a longer entirely wooden building that was serving as a meeting house for the remaining Kvatch townsfolk and soldiers, as they rebuilt their lives in the wake of the siege. The settlement was a modified, larger, and less haphazard expansion of the army encampment that had been set up outside the city, which I had passed through on my first journey here to locate Martin.

The tent was square and tall, about the size of a cabin, with treated canvas to ensure it didn't leak, and a hard wooden floor, raised up from the packed earth beneath it. There were small windows cut into the fabric to let in light and fresh air, with flaps that could be secured down to keep it out – as they were now. Finally there was a large tent flap which served as an entry at the front of the dwelling, which could be closed with a series of wooden pegs and rope.

I put the washcloth down, glad that I no longer smelled of horse, though the smell of smoke seemed to be coming from my hair, which I could do nothing about until I had access to a proper bath, or until Caroline woke, to help me wash it with what we had available to us in the tent.

I looked over at my sleeping bodyguard again, able to see her face in the dim light of the lantern, and decided to let her sleep for as long as she could. Smokey hair was certainly _not_ a priority. We had both exhausted ourselves the previous day, but she had taken on the bulk of the fighting.

 _Including the long battle with Ruma Camoran._ I remembered the encounter with the Altmer woman with a thud to my chest.

I shivered, and not only from the moisture cooling on my body. _She is Kvatch's problem, now_ , I reminded myself, as I reached for a towel that was hanging over the back of a chair, and dried off.

What _would_ the townspeople do with her, I wondered? Like Caroline, I doubted any prison would hold her for long, and there were many in Kvatch who had lost everything because of what she and her father's followers believed in, who would want justice.

But I too felt uneasy about giving her the kind of death that the Mythic Dawn cultists would seek revenge on Kvatch for; one that would elevate the woman to martyrdom.

I wrapped the towel around myself and sighed, rummaging through the clothing I'd brought for something clean to wear, before giving up and moving to the small selection of clothing that had been left for us, my mind filled with memories of the previous night.

 _The one chosen by the Septims,_ she had said the Elder scroll called me, in her compliant state. But _had_ I been chosen? In the case of Uriel Septim, which had set my part in these events in motion, I had been the _only_ choice.

But _Septims_ , plural? Did this go back to Geldall choosing me to wed his youngest brother, and Ebel agreeing to the match? Or as recent as Martin and my attachment to one another? And if yes, how did either have any relevancy to the success or failure of a Daedric Prince and his insane worshippers?

Would questioning her again make any more sense of what she had said? Perhaps Caroline would be able to Charm her again, and I could ask her to be more specific, for I doubted the woman would talk truthfully, even under duress.

Pondering what Ruma had told us, and slightly frustrated at how many more questions her assumptions had created, I dressed swiftly in a pair of soft, thick, dark grey woollen leggings, a long, brown undershirt and a moss-green over-tunic that fell to my knees. Despite the warm, unnatural air coming from Kvatch every so often, the rain had brought a chilly front with it. I added a thin, large grey scarf to the ensemble.

I ran my fingertips through my hair, loosely bound it in a plait, then looked down at my outfit, running my hands down the front to smooth the tunic, and wishing for a mirror. I wasn't addressing a Count or Countess today, but was it too little? Was I presenting an appropriate front? Would I be listened to, and taken seriously in my request for aid?

 _Why would anybody from Kvatch measure your abilities by your outfit_ , I asked myself ludicrously. I could hear my mother's sneer in the tone, again. _Get over yourself, Sarina._

I rolled my eyes and smiled at myself, then moved to put on my boots. My mother _had_ measured people by what they wore, so that my inner voice carried her tone to scold me about _that_ was laughable.

A few minor preparations later and I un-hooked the tent's door flaps and stepped out into the brisk morning air. It had stopped raining while I had been preparing myself, but the low, grey clouds overhead promised that there was more on its way.

The smell of sulphur wafted down again from the citadel that the encampment was built in the shadow of, and I glanced up to the high walls as I wrinkled my nose and retied the doorway closed so Caroline wouldn't be disturbed.

Why did Kvatch still bear the smells and heat of Oblivion? Would it take more than time for it to recover? Shouldn't all of that have stopped, when the gate was closed?

"Lady Passero - you're awake," I heard a man say, a short distance from me.

I turned, and noticed that there was somebody sitting under the annex to the side of our tent, at the table; a man in his forties, with dark hair tied at the back of his neck, wearing Kvatch soldier armour and holding a mug of something in his hands.

Then I realised who it was.

"Ilend!" I cried, smiling broadly, moving to join him under the annex and holding my hands out in greeting to the _true_ Hero of Kvatch. "It is you! I'm so happy to see you."

Ilend Vonius, the guard I had battled through my first Oblivion gate with, stood and bowed his head. "It's my honour to see you again, my Lady." There was a hint of a smile on his face when he raised his head. "Tales of your bravery have travelled ahead of you."

I lowered my hands, as it was obvious he wasn't going to take them, and motioned that he sit again. I took the seat opposite, trying to stop the blush creeping up my face as I wondered if he was annoyed that I had been credited and given the glory for our dual efforts.

"You know as well as I that there is more to it than is told in the newspapers," I gave him a small smile, and changed the subject. "Were you waiting to see me? I'm sorry - we arrived late last night and had a busy day, to say the least," I left it at that. Doubtless he already knew about the incident with Ruma Camoran.

"You haven't kept me waiting," he assured me, and cast his hand around the annex. "It was my turn on watch. In truth, none expect you or your companion to rise for several hours."

"On watch?" I blinked, confused, but with my musings about Kvatch still bearing such obvious scars of daedric battle on the edge of my thoughts. Was there more to fear from within the city itself? Is that why the community had set itself up outside of the walls?

"Consider it more an honour guard, than one placed out of necessity," Ilend explained, as he looked into the steel mug, which was half-full of what smelled like strong tea. "Here to keep curious meddlers from troubling you," he nodded out across the green beyond our tent, then took a sip from his mug, and I turned to look in the direction he'd indicated.

A pair of old women across the way were talking, casting curious glances in our direction. I smiled at them and returned my attention to Ilend, quite used to being looked at, regardless of the reason for it. The public had been looking at me since I was ten years old, and I had already decided this morning to _get over myself_ , as my inner-voice had commanded. To be embarrassed by their interest would have been unnecessarily coy of me.

"I am not bothered if people are interested in our quest," I told him. "I am actually here to ask for your help," I admitted.

"My help?" Ilend mistook me, as he recovered and lowered his head respectfully. "Ask what you would of me, and you shall have it, my Lady."

"Oh," I added quickly as he looked back up to me. "I didn't mean _you_ , directly."

I wanted to wince at how clumsy I had been with my words as Ilend's smile dropped.

"No, my Lady, I only meant -" he stumbled over his words, too. "But, of course, _I_ have nothing which could be of use to you. I spoke of Kvatch."

"Not of use to me?" I gave him a perplexed look and shook my head, because again, despite it not being what I meant, he was so incredibly wrong. "You know well and good that you provided a vital service to me, and all of Tamriel," I reminded him. "A service for which I never thanked you," I added.

Ilend's cheeks reddened slightly, but he bore the praise well. "I was merely doing my duty," he said in a lowered tone.

"No," I insisted, remembering how much I owed him, suddenly, and I couldn't stop the words flowing from me. "There was nothing _mere_ about it, and I will never forget it," I told him sincerely. "Your bravery helped me to close the first of the Gates, and many have been closed since, because _you_ made it possible. Thank you," I reached across the table and took his hand; the one not wound around the steel mug, and gave it a squeeze. "To me, you are the true Hero of Kvatch. From the bottom of my heart, thank you."

Ilend was properly red-faced now, and silent, and I let go of his hand and sat back as I noticed another Kvatch guard approaching the annex.

"Hello," I greeted the newcomer; an Imperial man, wearing a full set of chainmail under the Kvatch cuirass.

He did a double-take when he noticed me at the table, but recovered swiftly and bowed his head. "Lady Passero, it - it is an honour," he told me.

Ilend cleared his throat and spoke up, his voice clear and with authority, "Are you on next watch, Jesan?"

The man, Jesan, raised his head and addressed Ilend now. "I am, though if Lady Passero is awake-"

"-her companion is still abed," Ilend finished his sentence for him, "and she is not to be disturbed."

Jesan's eyes flickered to me again for a moment, then he nodded to Ilend. "I'll make sure nobody disturbs her, then."

"Excellent," Ilend stood, flinging the dregs of his tea over a patch of grass beside the annex, before flicking me a glance and a short bow, as he moved to depart. "My Lady, I take my leave from you. I'm glad we were able to meet properly this morning."

I stood too, trailing after him a few steps. "Wait," I called out hurriedly. Jesan beside me startled a little, and Ilend turned, a flicker of sorrow in his eyes, for just a moment, as he met my gaze. Then it was gone, and he waited patiently.

Confused by his look, however brief, I shook myself as I took another step toward him, keeping my head held high. "Would you take me to see Captain Matius?" I asked.

"Of course," Ilend answered smoothly, motioning that I step out from under the annex with him. "If you would follow me, my Lady."

We set off across the green beside the tent; a chilly breeze ruffling my scarf and tunic as we stepped out, and bits of my hair came free of the plait and whipped around my face. The old women opposite us were still talking earnestly and nodding toward us, though I couldn't hear what they were saying as the wind was carrying their voices away from us.

It must have been quite early still, I noted, though the greyness of the day confused the hour. There weren't many people about; the market stalls across the green virtually empty of buyers, though a quick glance told me that the stalls had little to sell anyway.

I frowned, turning back to look at where we were headed; Ilend was leading me in a straight line down the row of tents.

"Where are all the traders?" I asked him.

Ilend shook his head. "We send groups to Skingrad to buy supplies each day. No traders have come to Kvatch since the siege," he muttered.

This seemed impossible. "But, why?" I asked with incredulity. "There's a city to be rebuilt. The right trader could make a fortune."

Ilend shrugged casting me a hard-eyed glance. "Not when nobody in Kvatch has any money to give them," his tone was obliging enough, but I didn't miss the ironic edge to it.

"Oh," I flushed.

Ilend didn't speak again and as we walked in silence, I wondered if in my thoughtlessness, I had gone from Hero of Kvatch to just another clueless aristocrat, to him.

As I tried to think of how to recover from my thoughtless blunder about money, it began to rain again, but only just; tiny, almost insubstantial droplets, more mist than rain. Ilend and I doubled our pace.

I frowned as I thought about Kvatch's predicament. When Martin had asked where I would be when all of this was over, I remembered, I had joked that I would be rebuilding Kvatch for him.

But in the face of the empty stalls and temporary housing, was it really a matter to be joked about? And, genuinely, would it not be a worthy use of my family's fortune, to help these people?

We rounded a corner and Ilend lead me to the front door of the more permanent wooden building I had noticed earlier; the one that served as a meeting hall.

I stepped into the large, open room and out of the rain and inwardly groaned as I realised where my thoughts had lead me. I couldn't ask these people to help Bruma. But, as it was within my power to do so, I _had_ to help them repair Kvatch.

Lanterns lined the walls, creating a warm glow. There were a few guards – about ten – collected around a large table at the far end of the room, some of them eating breakfast. I recognised only one of them – Captain Matius – who was standing, pointing at a document on the table in front of him, as a couple of the guards either side of him looked on.

All of them looked up as Ilend closed the door behind me, and silence fell.

"We'll continue this later," I heard Captain Matius say.

 _Help them_ , I urged myself, as I forced a smile onto my face. _Don't sweep in and take more from what little they have left._

Ilend lead me toward the table, and Captain Matius raced around it to greet me before we reached it; the memory of him shrugging out of his armour to gift it to me vividly sprung to mind and I tried to stop myself from laughing. The thought helped me to relax.

"Captain," my smile was genuine now. "It is wonderful to see you again."

"Lady Passero," the Captain hurriedly bowed as he moved around the table, and then he was in front of me. "You are a welcome sight for these weary eyes. Thank you, Ilend," he nodded to the man by my side, dismissing him.

Ilend nodded in reply, and moved to leave.

"No, please," I turned hurriedly to him. "Stay. You are as much the Hero of Kvatch as I am, and I would have you take part in what I am about to propose."

Ilend gave his Captain a glance, but agreed to stay, with a hint of hesitance in his reply. "As you like, my Lady."

"Thank you," I turned back to the Captain, hoping that I could repair the damage my thoughtless talk during our walk to the meeting house had done. "There is much to discuss. Where can we talk?"

The Captain indicated the table he'd been at when we had arrived. "Here is as good as it gets. No point in marching through the rain to sit in another tent," he sounded a little dry.

I frowned, as he motioned that we move toward the table, and I followed him. Once I had taken my seat, with Ilend taking a seat to my right, and the Captain seated to my left, I responded to him. "I have hope that you won't need to live in tents for much longer, Captain."

Ilend shuffled next to me, but it was the Captain who spoke, shaking his head. "I don't know. Each day more people leave Kvatch, and none return. There's no point in rebuilding a ghost town, regardless of whether we have means to do so or not."

"Perhaps for now," I sighed. A guard placed a mug of tea in front of me and I thanked them, taking it up in my hands to warm them.

"It's true that the war Tamriel has been cast into has caused all manner of upheavals," I continued. "But it won't be this way forever, and people will return," I smiled, taking a sip of tea, and then got to the point. "Until then, perhaps I will be able to assist you with your rebuilding efforts?"

"Assist us...but, how?" the Captain asked, a wary sort of surprise on his face.

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Money, Captain," I said plainly. "I would like to provide the funds you require to employ workers and tradesfolk to rebuild Kvatch."

The Captain's jaw dropped. On the edge of my focus I noticed that the other guards in the room were paying full attention to our conversation.

It was Ilend who broke the silence. "And what would you have us do for you in return?"

I turned to him, starting to grow weary of the change in him, though I reminded myself that I _had_ told him that I was here to ask for _their_ help. Of course he thought there was a catch to my offer of assistance.

"Nothing," I told him squarely, more resolved in my decision to not ask Kvatch for soldiers. "Though if you are asking what you, personally, Ilend, can do for me; I would have you act as signatory for the account I will set up, if you would accept the position."

Ilend's manner did change at this, from hesitant to baffled. "Why would you do this?" he asked. "Nobody cares what happens to Kvatch."

"The Emperor does," I replied, then turned back to the Captain. "Captain Matius, you remember the priest who I left Kvatch with those months ago?"

The Captain nodded a little. "You must realise, my Lady, if we'd had _any_ idea of who _you_ were when you arrived-"

"I was deliberately disguised," I cut in smoothly, and continued. "The priest who was living amongst you is the only remaining member of the Septim family. It was my task that day to retrieve him."

There were a few gasps and murmurs at this, so I knew that nobody _had_ known of Martin's true identity, even if they had heard that an heir had been found.

"He cares what happens to Kvatch," I turned to Ilend again, to answer his question, finally.

Ilend was silent, and feeling as though I might have fixed things between us, I turned back to the Captain. "And if Kvatch is abandoned, the daedric forces which continue to assault all of Tamriel have won, regardless of whether the Oblivion gate that attacked your city was closed. So," I said more brightly, with resolve, "Kvatch will be rebuilt, and you shall have all you need to achieve it."

The Captain shook his head slowly. "My Lady, I don't know what to say. You have saved us once already from certain destruction, and now you are here, doing it a second time," he lowered his head to me, and I flushed as I realised that my promise, announced so publicly, had just solidified my position as the city's Hero, which I hadn't intended.

"I – Captain there is no need for that," I said hurriedly, so he would stop bowing awkwardly from his chair. "It should only take a day or two to organise the account," I hoped to move the conversation along. "In that time, I would suggest that you send word to the major cities that Kvatch is being rebuilt and that there is money to be had for those who will work for it. Word will get around, soon enough, and perhaps those who seem to have given up on Kvatch will return."

For the next hour or so, while the morning rain beat steadily against the wooden roof above us, we discussed which sectors of Kvatch would be rebuilt first, and what types of labourers would be required in the early days. The room felt more energised and hopeful, and I was glad to be part of it, despite not obtaining any additional assistance for Bruma.

Once the seeds of the rebuild were planted, and the rain grew lighter, I rose and excused myself, keen to leave the full details of the Kvatch rebuild to them, saying that I needed to return to Caroline. Ilend wordlessly rose with me, and after I had agreed to return to the meeting room for lunch with the Captain, he just as wordlessly escorted me outside.

He closed the door after us and I gave up on waiting for him to say anything. "Ilend, wait," I held my arm out, to stop him from leading me the entire way. He stopped and waited expectantly.

I raised my eyebrows to him. "I am sure you would much rather be taking part in the discussions in the meeting hall, than fussing about after me. I can find my own way back."

Ilend shook his head. "I don't doubt your abilities, my Lady – I've seen them firsthand," he removed his scarf, and with a flick, unrolled the material then held it up over my head like an umbrella, to shield me from the spitting rain. "It is my honour."

I eyed him warily. "I wish you would stop saying that," I sighed, then turned in the direction of the tents and began walking. Ilend fell into step beside me, holding the scarf over my head all the while, and it was all I could do to stop myself from rolling my eyes at him.

"Ilend, we fought together, through Oblivion," I reminded him. "And it didn't matter then who either of us were, just that we fought the same fight," I reasoned in an attempt to get him to relax. I looked out across the green, at the near-empty stalls again, and reminded myself that they would soon be brimming with both goods and customers, if all went to plan.

Ilend hadn't replied, so I continued. "It's a battle that we still fight," I told him. "Only yesterday, I was in Oblivion, closing another gate with Caroline," I added.

 _This_ got a reaction.

"Why?" Ilend all but spluttered.

"Because somebody has to do it," I shrugged, leaving out the part about it being the price we paid to secure soldiers for Bruma from the Count of Skingrad. "It doesn't matter who that somebody is."

Ilend and I stopped in front of our tent, and he turned to look down at me, still from underneath the scarf that he held aloft. "Forgive me for saying so, but I am unsure of your point, my Lady," he gave me a half-smile.

"It's only," I poked him in the chest, "that I hope you consider me your comrade," I smiled. "And not just some noble girl who needs looking after," I turned and began to untie the tent's door toggles.

"That is _not_ what I think, my Lady," he assured me, but I noticed that he lowered the scarf.

"Good," I had to give him the benefit of the doubt. Peering into the dark tent, I could see that Caroline was still asleep.

"I'll return for you when lunch is prepared," Ilend told me, as he bowed to leave.

I turned back to him, crossing my brows. Had he ignored everything I had said?

He rose to his full height, and added, "As your friend, and not your honour guard, if that suits you better."

I eyed him shrewdly. "Friends don't bow to each other."

"My Lady?" I heard Caroline say sleepily from within the tent.

I inwardly cursed. "Sorry," I turned around in the tent doorway to her. She was sitting up in bed. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's all right," she spoke up, as she ran her hands over her face and then back through her wispy, light blonde hair. "I feel much better than I did last night."

"I'll take my leave," I heard Ilend saying, and when I turned back to him he was already walking away.

"Who was that?" Caroline asked.

"The guard I fought through Oblivion with, the first time," I told her, letting the tent flap fall shut as I entered the tent. I couldn't help but add, "It was easier to deal with the people of Kvatch when they didn't know who I was," I frowned.

Caroline smiled up at me, a little endearingly. "I am pleased to hear that they were treating you with respect, while I slept," she shifted her blankets aside and rose, arching her arms and back in a stretch. "Though in future, my Lady, I would rather that you wake me," she stopped arching, and waved her hand at me. "I mean – look at your hair," she added, as though it explained everything.

I gave her an unimpressed look and walked to the table, to extend the lantern wick. The room grew steadily lighter. "It's windy out," I muttered.

Caroline let the matter drop, for once, and sat down at the table. "Did you meet with the Captain?"

I sat across from her, nodding.

"Good. Did he pledge to assist Bruma? How many soldiers did you gain?"

I shook my head now. "Caroline, things in Kvatch..." I started uncertainly.

Her look hardened immediately. "They _refused_ you?" she asked swiftly.

"Let me finish," I said carefully, rethinking. "In truth, I didn't ask them for help, in the end," I told her. "Because," I added with a sigh, "well, they have nothing to spare. That much should have been obvious to us," I waved my hand around the tent.

Caroline's mouth drew into a straight line and she sighed, but said nothing. She rose, and gathered a hair brush from her pack.

"Instead," I continued, "I told the Captain that I would like to open an account for Kvatch to use, to assist with the rebuild of the city," I finished, wondering what my bodyguard would make of this.

Caroline stepped up behind me, and began unbinding my plait silently.

I frowned, and decided to go on. "I was wondering if you would be able to ride back to Skingrad today?" I asked, as she started brushing my hair. "Somebody needs to set up the account, and make Ilend signatory," I mused, my frown easing as I closed my eyes, and allowed myself to enjoy the feeling of the brush running through my hair.

"Who signatory?" Caroline asked quietly.

"Oh," I realised. "That guard – the one who you saw before," I explained, waving toward the tent entrance.

Caroline placed the brush on the table, and began braiding my hair tightly to my scalp. After a moment, she asked. "Do you know this man well enough, to trust him with your money?"

"Yes," I replied, with certainty. "Perhaps not personally," I explained, for Caroline knew it. "But I trust him. Caroline, he put his life at risk by distracting three dremora so that I could remove a Sigil stone, without knowing anything about me, not even my name," I told her.

Caroline sighed, as her fingers swept the braid to one side, so the tip brushed my shoulder. "I suppose that does lend him a certain honour."

I nodded. "So. Will you ride to Skingrad for me?" I asked again. "It's shouldn't take any longer than a day, and I can stay here and help the Captain," I turned around, to look up at her.

Caroline's lips were still pursed, but she was masking a smile, and I wondered what she had found amusing about what I had said, narrowing my eyes a little.

"What is it?"

"It's nothing, my Lady," the knowing smile stayed in place. She turned my head back around, gently, so that she could continue fiddling with my hair. "I'm afraid I would be breaking an oath I made to the Emperor if I left your side, even here in Kvatch where you say they are taking special care of you."

I rolled my eyes, even though she couldn't see it. "You weren't by my side this morning, and I was fine," I told her steadily, wondering how I could make her see reason, remembering something. "And you told me, in Bruma, that Martin gave you a request, not an order."

Seemingly satisfied with my hair, Caroline moved back around the table and re-took her seat, the amusement on her features slightly marred with concern, now.

"Should we not be making haste to Anvil?" she asked me delicately. "This army is our priority, before all else. If Bruma falls, while we are away-"

I shook my head. "I have made up my mind about this," I told her. "Yes, we need to prioritise our time, so we can't..." I searched for an example. "Can't go after Hod's mother and Enith ourselves," I remembered that I would need to ask somebody to do that; a task that might be easier now Ruma Camoran was taken prisoner, if she could be questioned about them. "But helping Kvatch requires so little effort, on our part, and will make a world of difference to them. Can we not be reasonable, when presented with problems that are within our power to fix?"

"Promising a portion of your family's fortune to a city you don't know isn't exactly _reasonable_ ," Caroline said pointedly.

I sighed, "Perhaps not to some. But Caroline, it's the right thing to do, and you know it is."

Caroline's secret smile was back again, and she shook her head and rose. "I shall do as you ask, my Lady, on the condition that this Ilend you so trust comes with me."

I crossed my brows at her. In truth, I had been thinking at that moment of asking him to take care of Hod, when we left. "Why?"

Caroline moved to the clothes laid out for us at the side of the tent, and began selecting items for herself. "Don't sound so concerned. I won't frighten him off," she muttered. "I just want to have a talk to him. And besides," she added swiftly, "you'll need him to meet your accountant and sign papers, if he's to be made signatory," she glanced at me for confirmation.

I nodded, dropping the matter, since Caroline had agreed to the task and if I pushed it, she might decide not to go. Despite her insistence that she was in service to me, requests to Caroline were always just that; requests. Only Jauffre and the Emperor had the authority to order her to do anything.

She dressed in a similar outfit to mine, only her over-tunic was blue, and quilted.

"If you leave immediately, you could be back before nightfall," I told her hopefully.

Caroline agreed and continued preparing herself; donning and adjusting her weapons belt and sitting to pull on her boots.

"You must promise me that you won't leave this settlement," she said at one point, then added, almost to herself. "I shall talk to the Captain, while Ilend is preparing, and ensure you are properly taken care of."

I stopped the argument that I would be fine before it left my mouth this time, and nodded instead. "If you think it best," I replied.

Before long, she was ready, and together we left the tent and made for the meeting hall again. Jesan, who must have still been on watch, hurriedly joined us, and introductions were made. Caroline seemed slightly startled that we had been given an honour guard, but shrugged it off naturally enough and asked the guard if he could retrieve Ilend for her and have him meet us at the meeting hall.

The rain had stopped again, while we had been inside. Once Jesan had left, Caroline seemed slightly more at ease. "Perhaps this Captain Matius _does_ understand who he is dealing with," she mused.

"I told you," I smiled up at her. "We are safe, in Kvatch."


	32. The Dead City

By the time Caroline and Ilend were ready to make for Skingrad, the Captain had assigned one of his own to watch over me, without needing any prompting from Caroline on the matter.

Momentarily I had been perplexed at the Captain's appointment; that despite being the person who had helped _save_ Kvatch, I was being treated like a child who needed minding. But a reasonable voice within me said to smile, and bear it. They did not act to cast doubt on my abilities; they did it, as Ilend had mentioned a few times to me that morning, because they thought it was the honourable thing to do.

And if I was truthful to myself? A part of me was even pleased to have the tall, happy Redguard woman, called Tierra, shadowing my every step, because despite my assurances to Caroline, and the brave face I wore, Kvatch did _not_ feel particularly safe. The waves of heat that wafted down smelling slightly of sulphur every so often pushed against me like a warning hand, reminding me that while none in the settlement would harm us, and that I needed to see this offer of assistance through, we should not linger here.

Of course, I told myself that I was being ridiculous, perhaps even superstitious. But I still couldn't shake what I felt.

 _First order of business,_ I told myself. _Get them to tear down the remains of this Oblivion gate._

I looked up to the large stone archway that, even deactivated, sent a shudder of dread through me as I remembered my first journey into Mehrunes Dagon's realm.

"Lady Passero?" Tierra held her hand out to me, and I tore my eyes from the gate. Despite all of my journeys through Oblivion since, the first time had been the most distinct, and most terrifying; obviously, because it had been new to me, and I had been required to look more closely at what was in front of Ilend and I, to make it out alive.

 _And after the Gate was deactivated? You don't remember what happened_. I had never found out from Martin what I'd said or done, and my memory of that time hadn't returned on its own.

I frowned and looked up to Tierra then, trying to force the memories from my mind. I didn't need them now, and truly, it didn't matter what _had_ happened during those two days after, in the Chapel, either. I needed my mind on the here and now, and on what was coming.

Tierra was a few steps ahead and above of me, and I wordlessly took her hand, allowing her to help me across the uneven mass of rubble and road that lead into the city.

"Why hasn't this been cleared?" I asked her, as we clambered through the archway and settled down onto the road within the city's walls. "It's no wonder nobody has been able to start rebuilding within."

Tierra lead the way along the road, which from within the city was marred with piles of windswept grey ash and scorch marks, on what must have once been fine, dark, smooth cobbles.

"Our priority has been the people," she sounded bright still, as she indicated the settlement behind us. "All of our resources were put into creating somewhere for the survivors to live."

"Oh," I realised dumbly that I had come close to sounding unreasonable and insensitive again, and shook my head. "But of course."

Tierra lead the way down the road and then moved us through an alleyway to the left. I took in what I could of the city; the ruined rooftops, the crumbling stone, and the constant reminders of battle; so hopeless, and desolate, and it felt as though the city itself was somehow exuding the mood.

"And why are they keeping Ruma Camoran here?" I asked Tierra, as we stepped out of the alleyway, and I looked up to the remains of Castle Kvatch.

Tierra nearly frowned now, as she looked up to the castle as well, her hands on her hips. "I'm not sure," she told me, in a thoughtful voice. "The dungeons weren't impacted by the siege, so the Captain probably thought it was the best place for her."

Tierra's comment hung in the air and I prompted her, "But you think otherwise?"

She nodded, as she motioned that we continue onward. "Lot of people lost everything, every _one_ , in that siege," she began, then shrugged. "I can't say I would blame anybody for taking out their revenge on her, but I believe the Captain would like to put the witch on trial before her fate be decided."

We walked across a high, arching stone bridge over a stagnating moat, which lead into what remained of the Castle. I wrinkled my nose at the smell of brackish water, which only added to the discomfort within the city walls, and continued questioning Tierra, because it was easier than thinking about what I was about to do. "Do you think she should be put to death without trial?" I asked bluntly.

"Without question," Tierra replied without hesitation, as she lead us around the castle courtyard, to a side entrance. I glanced at her, to see if she would elaborate; perhaps tell me who she lost, during the siege, to make her answer so swiftly, but she moved on to the matter at hand.

"This is it," Tierra indicated the door, then cast me a glance. "Are you certain you want to go through with this?"

I stared the doorway down, nodding, before I lost my nerve.

 _Have strength,_ I told myself. _You can do this._

Tierra sighed, then opened the door, motioning that I step through. "As you wish, my Lady."

I stepped into the lantern-lit stair well, watching my step as I descended. Tierra entered after me and closed the door behind us.

At the bottom of the staircase was a Kvatch guard at a small table, who looked bored, though he sat up straighter when he saw us.

"Lady Passero?" he asked uncertainly, then stood to attention, flickering Tierra a questioning glance. "What are you doing here?"

I found my voice and forced a smile onto my face. "I'm here to question the prisoner," I told him. "Can you bring me to where she is being held?"

The guard seemed even more confused, but kept his questions to himself, as he nodded slightly. "Oh. Of course. This way."

 _What are you doing,_ I inwardly cried, as I fell into step behind the guard, and Tierra fell into step behind me. _She's not going to tell you anything_ , I told myself, for what must have been the thousandth time since I'd made the decision to come up to the castle and attempt to talk with Ruma Camoran.

 _I must try_ , I answered myself. If Hod's mother and Enith still lived, Ruma would know where they were being held, I was certain of it. And if I could learn any more from her about why she had thought Dagon and her father were after me, all the better.

The guard stopped suddenly, in front of a cage of iron, it took me a moment to realise that we were at our destination, as I noticed that both the guard and Tierra were watching me, and waiting to see what I would do.

Before I had taken a single step closer to the prison, I saw her, and froze as I watched the tall Altmer woman approach the bars, her hateful eyes observing me like a snake observed a mouse before it struck.

"Look who it is," Ruma Camoran drawled, "the Septims' little whore."

It took all of my will to stop from shrinking back at the venom in her voice.

Tierra sprang to action, making me startle as she drew her short sword and held it out, point-first, at the woman. "You mind your tongue, witch, or I'll cut it out."

My eyes glued to Ruma, I noticed that she flicked a glance at the blade, but not its wielder, before narrowing her eyes on me again, her face defiant. "But, has _she_ not come to steal more words from my lips?" she asked. "What use would I be to your little Hero, without my tongue?"

I let my eyes unlock from Ruma to take in her appearance. Prison did _not_ suit her regal bearing. Her hair was hanging limply around her face, unkempt, and she was dressed in prisoner leggings and tunic, with shackles and chains around her ankles. Solid steel gloves were clamped over her hands, chained together at the wrists, so that she was bound, and her fingertips could never quite touch. The gauntlets would prevent her from accessing her magic, and despite myself I managed a small half-smile, when I saw them. Oh, how it must have infuriated her, to be trapped and powerless.

I could see Tierra shifting in the corner of my eye, and spoke up before the Redguard woman talked of tongue-cutting again. At this moment, it was as Ruma had said; I needed her to be able to talk.

"It's all right," I made sure my voice was steady, and held my hand up to Tierra, motioning that she put her sword away. She slowly did as I bade, though her hand stayed poised, ready to draw again at a moment's notice.

I turned back to the daughter of Mankar Camoran, steeling myself, and wondering how to extract anything useful out of her, realising that while I had been distracting myself with questions to Tierra on our walk up to the castle dungeon, I could have been formulating a plan.

"You think I will answer the questions you have?" Ruma spoke up, managing to sound haughty. "You are naïve beyond words," she added. "You can't batt your eyelashes and spread your legs to make _me_ do your bidding," she lashed out at me again.

I raised an eyebrow to her at this, wondering why she bothered firing such insults at me, since I knew that _she_ knew I was still a maiden; it was half of the reason that Mehrune's Dagon wanted me, or, my blood, I remembered her saying in the cavern around Lake Arrius.

 _She is a rat, trapped in a cage,_ I answered my own question. _She is attacking you with the only weapon she has left._

"Well, go on," Ruma droned, sounding almost bored.

Realising that my silence was managing somehow to unnerve the woman, and discovering that this thought cheered me, I took a deep breath, and told myself to choose my words very carefully, and not out of anger, as she was doing. Anger made people do and say stupid things.

And suddenly, I knew how to make Ruma talk. I had to make her angry.

Yes, I wanted to question her about the whereabouts of Hod's mother and Enith. If I could take the Captain anything of use, he could send one of his guards out to begin searching for them. But driving me was a desire to learn more about what she had told us the previous night. I decided to start with a question she would not expect me to ask.

"Do you know what happened to your brother, Raven?" I asked simply.

The briefest of shadows crossed her features, before she returned to sneering at me. "Are _you_ threatening _me_?" she asked with incredulity. She threw her head back and laughed.

I ignored her response and pushed on; I didn't want to threaten her. Everything I said needed to bait her.

"He was killed by a Blade, in the Imperial City," I continued. "It was all over a book – it is said that the Blade didn't even realise who it was that he killed," I added lightly.

Ruma's laughter calmed only slightly, as she said, "Sarina, your honeyed words will not trick me into speaking," she tutted, the laughter finally quelling, though it was still in her tone when she added, "Let me make this perfectly clear, child," she waved her gauntleted hands at me. "Freeing my brother of his mortal flesh was fundamental to my father's, and Lord Dagon's design. Why, these little townspeople do His work, even as they hold me here. Should He will it," she smirked nastily, "I could instruct the hoards to begin the invasion of Bruma, right here, from within this cell," she raised her eyebrows at me, as though daring me to call her bluff.

Tierra shuffled again and clearly wanted to act, and the guard that had lead us to the cell growled a little, but I held my hand up to them again, shaking my head minutely. They _had_ to let me keep trying; I was determined to get something useful out of her.

I had to tell myself that she was bluffing, merely trying to intimidate me, and wondered how I was going to gain control of this conversation. Talking about her brother hadn't seemed to put her off, so I had to assume that she'd had no love for him.

I forced down the surge of panic as I asked myself how I could be certain she hadn't communicated with her father, somehow? What if at that moment, Oblivion gates _were_ being opened on Bruma's doorstep?

 _No._ I _had_ to believe that there was still time.

I pushed all she had said aside, and tried again. "You were very stealthy in your tracking of us, yesterday," I told her. "However did you locate us?"

Ruma Camoran tutted at me, then spoke to me as though I was a child. "And now, flattery. You grow more desperate by the minute. It will get you nowhere."

"If you won't talk, then you will listen," I told her smoothly, deciding to do what I did best, and just keep talking. "The way that I see it, it _must_ have been you who stopped and searched the farmer's cart for me," I confirmed, but didn't wait for a response. "I have to admit, I was surprised you left little Hod alive. I didn't think you had a merciful bone in your wretched body," I added.

Ruma sighed heavily. " _Really_. I have no reason to tell you _anything_ and you are beginning to bore me."

 _Boredom is a step away from frustration_ , I told myself, trying not to smile. If she was frustrated, she was more likely to tell me something, anything.

"See, I don't think you or your precious Mythic Dawn had a plan to find me, beyond attacking the farmer's cart," I continued. "Which," I motioned logically to her, "you must have all assumed I was still on at the time, or, what would be the point?"

Ruma glared and remained silent this time.

"I think you were very lucky, to find us at all," I deduced. "And, I'll take a guess, since," I waved my hand at her again, "naturally, you refuse to correct me. _I_ think you left the boy alive to trap us, when you realised we weren't there. But - that doesn't explain why you took his mother, and the old woman," I mused.

Predictably, this wasn't enough to coax Ruma into talking about anything relevant, and she turned to address Tierra before she spoke. "This is how Kvatch tortures its prisoners, isn't it? You have your little self-proclaimed Hero prattle on at them until they slit their own wrists?"

Tierra growled now, and I cut in over the top. "Oh, I'm just warming up," I laughed at her, as though it was a joke between us. "Let me step through your movements yesterday, to make sure I have it correct," I paced a little, in front of her, and ignored how her eyes tracked my every step, repressing a shudder and reminding myself that I wasn't pray that she was stalking.

"You killed the farmer, left the boy as bait, and took the two women - I'm assuming in case they _were_ us, under the influence of an Alteration spell," I huffed and shook my head. "If you thought you had us, in taking them, why did you leave the boy alive to bait us? You were _really_ desperate to find me, weren't you?" I said in a humour-filled tone to her.

Ruma Camoran's bored glare made her face look all the more angular, and she droned, "Why do you assume that everything we do is about _you_?"

 _Good_. Now we were getting somewhere.

"Well, you _were_ caught hunting me," I said reasonably. "And last night, you told me yourself that both your father and Mehrunes Dagon want me, as a matter of priority."

She grit her teeth at me. "Your narcissism astounds me, you silly girl. Those liberated by the Dawn serve a higher purpose than you could hope to be a part of," she spat dogmatically.

 _Those liberated,_ my heart plummeted _. They didn't take Hod's mother and Enith because they thought it was Caroline and I in disguise,_ I realised.

Which meant they could have only been taken as sacrifices. I tried not to let my shoulders slump in defeat, and held my head up high, determined to see this game through, attempting to console myself with the truth that the chances of finding the pair alive had always been slim, and that there was still more to learn from her about _my_ part in all of this.

"Well, I _was_ the one referenced in the Elder scroll. You told me that," I reminded her. "Such information is bound to give _anybody_ an inflated ego," I sighed. "I suppose that is what lead the Septims to draw me into their lives, when I was still a child," I considered, fishing for confirmation, in case she had it. "They must have seen in me what your father and Dagon saw in that Elder scroll."

Ruma bared her teeth at me again and pressed her face up to the bars. "They don't want _you_ , you little idiot, they want you _dead_."

She had told me as much the previous night, with the whole _blood and soul_ spiel, but I pretended I hadn't heard her. They _didn't_ just want me dead, or I would already be so.

"I have to admit, it's a strange feeling, to be the focus of so many men's prophecies!" I continued, half laughing as though I _was_ nothing but a silly girl. My heart began to race and I felt I was on the cusp of understanding something critical about the Dawn's interest in me, if I tread carefully.

Ruma laughed again then, but it was a cruel and ironic peal. "Oh, if only you knew what they had in store for you," she grinned, her eyes shining viciously. "The day that you are brought to my father shall be the day your heart is cut from your chest by Lord Dagon himself," she spat, her voice taking on a faster, manic pace.

I made myself remain still, and quiet, to keep her talking. I tried, _really_ tried, to detach myself from what she was saying, to see if there was any truth behind it, but it was all I could do to stop myself from shaking where I stood, though not entirely from fear. Ruma Camoran spoke with such certainty, driven by a devout contempt for me, which I couldn't fathom.

"And my brother and I shall watch and laugh, and bathe in your blood, as my father binds your soul to him so that the Septims can _never_ reclaim you or their ignoble dynasty, and Cyrodiil will never have its Champion," she intoned.

I paled a little, and asked myself again; what had made _me_ the subject of these insane cultists hatred? Before they had killed the Emperor, I should have been nobody to them; just a girl living a boring, albeit privileged, existence.

But that life must never have mattered to the Mythic Dawn, if murdering Ebel had not made me irrelevant to their plight. It was quite the contrary, it seemed.

My eyes narrowed as I reminded myself that Ruma was lying to me, and simply trying to scare me, and that for a moment there, she had done so.

 _Who am I to be the subject of their hatred_ , I asked myself again? I was the noble girl who slipped through their fingers when all others were murdered. I was the Hero of Kvatch; the one who closed the first Oblivion gate and told all the rest of Tamriel how to do the same. I engineered the discovery of their lair at Lake Arrius and took part in its destruction. And I was the one to retrieve, and protect, the last Septim; the only person who could ultimately put a stop to their plans.

I had achieved none of this on my own. It may have been presumptuous of me, or anybody, to believe that none of this would have come to pass had I not been there. But I _had_ been there, and I had been the one to stall the Mythic Dawn's plans, time and time again. The icy fear in my racing heart thawed and raged through me, suddenly, like wildfire, and I glared up at Ruma Camoran, daring her to speak of my blood and soul as though they were forfeit again.

"That sounds like quite a future you have imagined up for me," I forced myself to speak, relieved that my voice didn't shake, be it out of fear, or anger. "But you are mistaken, Ruma Camoran," I took a step closer to her cage, dimly aware that both Tierra and the other guard behind me were on full alert but thankfully, remaining silent.

"I look _forward_ to the day that I meet your father," I told her, in a low voice that I didn't realise I possessed. The anger she had roused in me brought with it an alarming focus, similar to the focus I had gained during the battle at Lake Arrius. "Because when I am standing before him, I will have already won."

Ruma looked down at me mutinously, but didn't speak, watching me closely instead.

"Should he somehow manage to bind my soul to his," I told her, imbuing my voice with its own certainty. "Do not think that I will meekly allow it or go quietly. I will tear him, and his realm, down around him, and take all the souls that have followed him to that plane with us. And, should he leave my soul in tact?" I added swiftly, shaking my head at her. "Then I shall take the Amulet he stole back to the true Emperor of Tamriel, and prevent Dagon from entering Nirn, forever."

Ruma shook her head minutely, her eyes narrowed to slits. "I also look forward to that day," she grated in a low voice, "when you shall learn the true meaning of pain, and Lord Dagon willing, I shall be the one to teach you that lesson. But until that day," she took a step back from the bars, raising her gauntleted hands slightly and flashing me a snarling smile.

"What are you doing?" the guard that had lead us to the cell demanded, and in an instant, both he and Tierra had drawn their swords.

I shook myself free of the haze of words and anger at his cry and stepped back, in horror, as Ruma swiftly brought the steel gauntlets that bound her from performing magic to her chest, and plunged them into herself.

Tierra grabbed my arm and turned me away, but not before I saw the blood spurting from her chest, and nothing could hide the sound of Ruma Camoran's screams as she used the gloves meant to protect us from her to tear a hole in herself.

"I leave my hearth without need or fear," she screeched, the sound laced with pain and fanaticism, "so that I might see through new eyes!"

"What do we do?" the guard was screaming over Ruma's insanity, at Tierra.

"There's nothing we _can_ do!" Tierra shouted back, her body sheltering mine.

Nausea flooded me and I grabbed hold of Tierra's arm to steady myself as my knees shook and I felt as though I was about to topple. Then Tierra was in front of me, and I saw her staring worriedly into my eyes, checking me, through another kind of haze; this one, blurry around the edges.

Tierra was angry, and shouted at the other guard. "Don't let her out of that cell, she'll kill us all!"

Ruma Camoran's ranting grew more indistinct, as her screams turned into sickening, somewhat euphoric moans, as though she was revelling in her death. With a sickening lurch, I dry-wretched at the sound.

"Get _her_ out of here!" the other guard shouted his own command back, over the din.

Then I was being towed down the corridor of otherwise empty cells, Ruma Camoran's death-throes becoming less audible all the while. I stumbled over the stairs, Tierra dragging me up then and out of the dungeons.

I blinked up at the grey sky, the cloud cover complete and the day still matte, as I tried to find my feet. The nauseous feeling that had overcome me slowly abated. Tierra had slowed our pace but was still holding onto me and making for, I assumed, the settlement outside of the city.

I put my hand over hers to ease her off me. "Please, stop," I urged her, pulling back to free myself.

Tierra lost her grip and turned back to stare at me, her eyes wide with a fear-laced fury that made me nervous.

"I'm sorry," I told her, trying to seem calm, but my voice shook, and there was a lump in my throat that I tried to swallow down before it overcame me and I started crying. _No time for that._

"Sorry?" Tierra crossed her brows.

I nodded, blinking tears of what I told myself was shock away. "I didn't mean to antagonise her like that. I had no idea a person could..." I waved my hand toward the dungeons, but left it at that as the vision of Ruma Camoran plunging her own hands into her chest, to make a sacrifice of herself, burned its way through my mind.

I choked back a sob and Tierra was there again, taking my arm more gently, this time. "Do not speak of it. We must keep moving, my Lady."

I nodded and let her lead me back across the bridge, away from the castle. The remains of Kvatch mocked me, the tall ruins either side of the alleyway bending over us, as though they would lean down and crush us at any moment.

 _Pull yourself together_ , I commanded myself, my mother's tone sharp, but not sneering, for once.

As I began to find my feet and my reliance on Tierra to lead me out of Kvatch lessened, a terrible, sinking defeat overcame me, as I realised what had just happened.

I had gone to question Ruma Camoran without a plan, convinced that I would be able to use my tried and tested diplomacy to reason answers out of her; answers to questions that were largely irrelevant to the task ahead of us. Being in Kvatch and playing their Hero _had_ inflated my ego, making me believe I could manage her myself.

I groaned. I couldn't have handled the audience worse if I had tried. And now, I had not only destroyed our chances of extracting information from the woman using Illusion magic, as Caroline had done, but also deprived the people of Kvatch of meting out their own justice to the Dawn. Plus, in her death, Ruma Camoran had sounded victorious; as though it had been her intention all along to kill herself, and that she had been waiting for me, to witness her suicide.

All of this had come to pass because I couldn't stand not knowing why Mankar Camoran and Mehrunes Dagon were after me.

Tierra and I ascended the rubble pile underneath the Oblivion gate that blocked the exit to Kvatch, and I cast a glance back over my shoulder, frowning at the grey castle against the grey sky.

 _That's enough_ , I resolved. No more questioning what Dagon or Camoran, or anybody, wanted me to do or be, or say. I had become obsessed with learning all there was to learn of their interest in me, convinced that if I understood their reasoning I would be able to stop them somehow from executing their plans, and my obsession had cost our plight a vital tool that we could have used to assist us.

I _would_ have to confront Mankar Camoran, some day. Of this I was now certain. There was no point in pretending otherwise, and it didn't matter why it had to be that way, or what motivated him or his followers to do anything that they did.

I wouldn't be able to talk my way out of the confrontation that each day I was getting closer and closer to, so learning the logic, if there was any to be had, was somewhat pointless.

As Tierra and I walked back into the Kvatch settlement in silence, I vowed to stop wondering, and instead start preparing myself, properly, for the battle that was to come.


	33. Celebrations

After explaining what had happened to Captain Matius and claiming full responsibility, I had excused myself and returned to our tent, planning on confining myself there until Caroline returned.

The Captain had wanted me to remain in the meeting hall and be a part of the rebuild plans, telling me that Ruma Camoran had been a dead woman anyway, and that this way, nobody in Kvatch could be blamed for her death.

This hadn't made me feel any better and only served to reenforce my guilt. Had I not insisted upon visiting her, I was doubtful she would have gone through with her horrific suicide – or sacrifice – or whatever it had been.

So I had made my excuses; explaining to the Captain that I had several letters to write, and had departed; Tierra by my side all the while.

Before we reached the tent, I gave Tierra some coin and asked her to buy some parchment, a quill and ink for me from one of the market stalls, if she could find anyone selling such things.

I had then made for the tent alone, thankful for at least a moment of privacy, but had stopped short when I had spotted our temporary abode across the green.

Earlier this morning there had been nothing distinguishing about the tent; it looked exactly the same as the other tents in the row.

But now, it was less anonymous. Garlands of both white and orange lilies had been strung around the top of the tent and bright yellow ribbons were fluttering either side of the wide-open tent-flap doorway. Someone had been busy while Tierra and I had been up at Kvatch.

Noticing on the edge of my focus that I was being observed by several pairs of eyes around the common area, I moved toward the tent, and forced a small smile onto my face, despite feeling as though I wanted to weep.

I paused at the tent entry, making a show of running my hands along the ribbons in appreciation, and reaching up to smell a nearby lily. Then I had my first look at what had been done _inside_ the tent, and held onto the side of the entry as I stared to keep from staggering.

All of the tent window flaps had been opened, and the small space was bright and airy. There were bowls of flowers – more white lilies – on the table, along with platters of blackberries and cheeses, bottles of wine and brandy, and loaves of bread. On the dresser near the back of the tent was another bowl of flowers, and beside it, a hanging rack had been erected, on which hung several outfits and beneath which lay several pairs of shoes and short boots.

I made my way into the room, then sat down at the table and stared at the transformed tent. It was beautiful, certainly, but I felt hollow and undeserving of this sort of treatment, given how little the people of Kvatch had to spare, and in the wake of my failure with Ruma Camoran.

I stared at my hands. There were smudges of dirt and ash on them; reminders of the ruined Kvatch, from when I had climbed over sections of it, I supposed.

 _There's blood on these hands_ , I told myself pointlessly, staring at the dirt in the creases of my palms. Despite Tierra and the Captain both assuring me that there was no blame on me for what had occurred, I couldn't help but feel that I had been responsible for Ruma's decision to end her life so shockingly. And even if not her blood; Enith, Hod's mother and the farmer, Raddin, were all dead because of decisions I had made.

 _You can't change what happened_ , I told myself earnestly, as I leaned back in the chair and let out a sigh to the roof. I blinked up at it, realising that a string of tiny lantern lights had been criss-crossed a couple of times across it, interspersed with sprigs of a pretty, green leafy vine.

_You can learn from what has happened, and do as you vowed; prepare yourself for what is coming._

"And stop sulking," I muttered to myself aloud, as Tierra entered the tent; a bundle of writing materials in her arms, her mission evidently a success.

"My Lady?" she asked me, overhearing my last.

"It's nothing," I sat up straight, putting a smile on my face for her benefit, though it was forced, and on the edge of my thoughts I noted that I had been forcing smiles for a little while now, and didn't like doing it.

 _Sulking_ , I reminded myself.

"Thank you for acquiring those," I nodded to her burdens.

She smiled, a little unsurely this time, casting her eyes around the tent briefly but choosing not to comment on the decorations and gifts. "It was no trouble. The merchant seemed grateful to have a customer."

She and I cleared a space in front of me on the table, and then she lay down the parchment, quills and ink.

I _hmmed_ a reply and looked down to my new writing materials, trying to focus on the task at hand. Caroline and I had talked yesterday about sending letters to Countess Carvain, Jauffre, and Martin. But where to begin with all that had occurred since we'd left Bruma? There was so much, and I would have to phrase it in a way that wouldn't cause concern to the recipients, or matter if the letter was intercepted.

Perhaps it was safer to not write the letters at all.

Tierra was standing beside me, I noticed, and I turned up to look at her. "Oh. Yes?"

"Is there anything else you need, my Lady?" she asked politely. "Perhaps some tea, or a mead?"

I shook my head. "No, thank you. But," I had a thought, waving my hand around the tent, "could you find whoever did this, and thank them for it? It is really very beautiful."

"You might thank them yourself, my Lady," she sounded happier, more like the Tierra I had first met, a few hours ago. "The markets are abuzz with news of a celebration being held tonight in your honour," she smiled.

"Celebration? Oh," the sulkiness pushed at me, and I shook it off, indicating the clothing hanging at the back of the room. "I did wonder what this was for," I added, unsure of what else to say.

Tierra bowed, a small smile on her face. "I will be outside, under the annex, if you have need of me, until your bodyguard returns from Skingrad."

I hesitated as I wondered if I could dismiss her entirely, stopping a sigh so I wouldn't seem rude, or ungrateful. Tierra didn't deserve that.

"Thank you," I called out her as she left the tent. She turned back at the entrance. "Really. For everything," I added. I had only known the woman for a few hours, but she had helped me gain access to the dungeons, despite not believing it to be the best idea, and then dragged me out when things had gone wrong. I had the notion that she and Caroline, given the opportunity, would have been good friends.

She nodded her reply, saying – as I had expected – that it was her honour, and then stepped out of view.

 _Celebration_ , my thoughts taunted me, as I looked down to the blank parchment and wondered where to begin writing. _It will take some time to prepare for that. You really need to wash your hair._

I shook my head, trying to shake the distracting thoughts from my head as I did. I _had_ to write. The Countess and Captain Burd needed to be told what had happened in Skingrad – of the amount of soldiers that would be arriving very soon to assist in the defence.

Though, perhaps some had already arrived, and would be able to tell Captain Burd what was going on firsthand. I nodded, satisfied with where my thoughts had swiftly lead me. Let the Skingrad guards and the Captain deal with the arriving soldiers amongst themselves. A letter from me would be redundant, by the time it arrived.

So then, letters to Jauffre and Martin remained.

Jauffre needed to be made aware of what had occurred with Ruma Camoran. He would be furious that she had killed herself, and more so with me, for instigating it. I could imagine what he would say, as he read my letter detailing the events; cursing me a conceited fool for believing I could keep control of such an interview and manage Ruma Camoran. He would believe that we should never have given her to Kvatch, and bemoan how much we could have gained by having her in custody.

And what if the Dawn intercepted such a letter? They would discover exactly what had happened to one of their highest ranking members; the daughter of their cult leader. They wouldn't let that go silently.

 _Why does Jauffre even need to know_ , I wondered, as I rethought the necessity of the second letter. It would serve no purpose, other than to make him angry. No. A letter to Jauffre would be too dangerous, I decided.

Pleased that I had reasoned my way out of writing two letters now, I turned my thoughts onto the letter to Martin, in which needed to advise him of our progress, and assure him that all was well. In truth, it was the only letter that I _wanted_ to write, as it made me feel as though I was in contact with him.

I got to work, writing a vague account of what had passed since leaving Bruma. I became absorbed in my wording, and the neatness of my handwriting. When I came to writing about what had occurred with Ruma Camoran, I penned; _We had an unexpected altercation with the agent our company sought prior to my departure. It is dealt with, though I have some regrets on the outcome._

I shook my head at myself; he would have _no idea_ what I meant by that. Would he?

 _I'm sorry for being so cryptic,_ I wrote next. _If only I could tell you all that had passed in person, but our journey is only beginning. This account will have to do, until we are next able to meet._

I ended the letter as I had the previous one I had written to him: _I ask that you pray for me, and I promise I will return._

I placed the quill into its inkwell and sat back, staring down at and scanning the letter, wondering what Martin would think when he read it.

'He'll think you've lost your mind," I told myself.

A giggle sounding from one of the windows in the tent made me look up quickly; I caught a flash of ginger curls and cheeky eyes as two small people scurried away.

I smiled at the distraction, despite everything that had happened; everything we had learned and done. If I was caught again sitting alone in the tent muttering to myself, everybody in Kvatch would soon believe I'd lost my mind as well.

–

I had just finished washing my hair when Caroline entered the tent.

Night was about to fall, and Tierra had advised me that the celebration would begin once Masser had risen, on a common green that was close to the meeting hall. There was still about an hour to go.

Caroline stopped in her tracks and stared at the additions to our tent, then refocussed on me, sitting at the table towelling my hair dry.

She met my eyes and sighed, wearing a worried, somewhat exasperated expression. From the look on her face, I knew that she had been told what had happened while she had been gone.

"Don't," I spoke up before she could. "I know what you're going to say," I told her hurriedly. "And you're right. I shouldn't have done it," I placed the towel over the back of the chair I was sitting on, fidgeting with it a little to make it straight. "How did the meeting with my accountant go?" I asked, hoping to distract her.

Caroline pursed her lips. "Everything is arranged," she shook her head, and it was obvious that I wasn't going to deter her from speaking her mind on what had happened with Ruma Camoran. "You _do_ realise what the people of Kvatch will say when what happens becomes common knowledge, don't you?"

"Caroline, please. I _really_ don't want to talk about it," I pleaded in a whining tone.

Caroline ignored my petulant response. "They will be singing your praises all the more," she said pointedly. "The newspapers will write of how you _defeated_ Ruma Camoran; that once challenged by you, she took her own life."

I stilled, feeling the blood drain from my face.

 _Oh._ I hadn't thought of _that_. All of my focus had been on the idea that the people of Kvatch would be angry with me, since Ruma Camoran could no longer stand trial for all the Mythic Dawn had brought down upon their city.

Caroline sat opposite me. "I know that you want to help," she said, in a more quiet voice. "And I see how you strive to be the Hero they want you to be," she added. "But, my Lady, your task is not to be the Champion of these people, and their plight," she squared me with a harder look than I was used to from my bodyguard. "We _must_ leave, and soon, and continue our quest for allies. Kvatch has all it needs of you, for now."

I flushed, lowering my eyes and realising that she believed I had gone to question Ruma Camoran on behalf of Kvatch. Shame flooded me and I knew I could never tell her the true reason; that I had done it out of selfish obsession, to learn more about why the Dawn wanted me.

"I agree," I tried to turn the conversation to the future, wishing that we had never stopped by Kvatch, suddenly, for it had revealed to me a part of myself that brought me shame. "Now funds have been arranged, we can leave whenever you wish," I told her, unable to meet her eyes for the moment.

I stood and moved to the dresser at the back of the tent, busying myself with selecting something to wear from the dresses hanging on the rack.

I waited for Caroline's reply, which came after a minor pause. "As you wish, my Lady," she said smoothly. "The journey to Anvil will take the better part of a day," she said, her voice efficient.

I was grateful she had let the matter drop, even if it was perhaps only for now. "Tomorrow morning, then," I proposed.

"Good," she joined me by the hanging clothing and took what I had selected from me, holding it out and raising her eyebrows at it critically. "Are you certain this is what you want to wear tonight?"

I frowned, looking over the plain, tan-coloured dress. It wouldn't attract attention, and was warm. "What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing, I suppose," she re-hung the dress and began sorting through the rack herself, "if you are a farmer's daughter," she added in a more quiet voice.

I gave her a hard look, but she didn't see it, her attention on the outfits in front of her now.

"Aha!" Caroline cried out, holding up a column of yellow material, that very slightly caught the lantern-lights as she moved it for me to inspect. " _This_ is _much_ more appropriate, don't you think?"

I sighed and returned to the chair I had been sitting in when Caroline had entered the tent. "If you like," I answered blithely, waving the dress away. Caroline had been deciding what I would wear for most of my life; why should I be bothered that she was doing it now?

 _Because you're not that little girl any more, is that it?_ I frowned at myself.

"Cheer up, my Lady," Caroline called out, as she lay the dress on my bed and then moved around the tent, closing the window flaps. "Why don't you have some wine, and I'll be over in a moment to fix your hair?"

I did as she suggested, pouring myself some of the dark red liquid that had been left in the tent for us, and taking a sip as I wondered how to pull myself properly out of the sullen mood I was in, and focus instead on the path ahead.

The prospect of a celebration and the requirements that went with it weren't weighing me down; it was always necessary to attend all manner of audiences, so this one in Kvatch that I needed to prepare for now truly was no different. But, I reasoned, while talking to townsfolk now and nobility tomorrow and for days after would further this current quest Caroline and I were on, it would _not_ help me prepare for the coming one; the looming confrontation with Mankar Camoran.

"Caroline," I hesitated, staring into my wine and tapping my fingers on the glass. "Can you start training me again? While we're travelling, I mean?"

Caroline joined me at the table, placing down a brush and a tin of hair pins. She started running her fingers through my hair, detangling it as it was almost dry. "If you wish, my Lady. When would you like to begin; before we leave for Anvil, or once we arrive?"

"Before," I answered swiftly. "We can train here, early tomorrow, and then leave for Anvil straight after."

Caroline picked up the brush and started running it through my hair, and I ignored the voice in my head, reminding me that Caroline's training had physically exhausted Martin and I back at Cloud Ruler Temple; a journey on horseback after such a session would be painful.

 _No more painful than the journey to Kvatch after battling through Oblivion,_ I told myself.

"Are you certain you want to train in Kvatch? You will likely attract quite an audience," Caroline mentioned.

I shrugged. "That doesn't bother me," I replied determinately, as Caroline began twisting a section of my hair around the side of my head and over my ear, securing it at the back with a few pins.

I knew that if I put off training in short-range fighting until the time was convenient, we would never get to it, so now that the decision had been made, and Caroline had agreed, it just needed to be done.

Caroline twisted another section of hair around my head, securing it at the back with the first piece, and then left the rest of my hair to float freely around my shoulder blades in soft waves.

"That will do. Come on, let's get you dressed," she eased my chair back for me, and I rose, feeling happier when I turned and saw the comfortable smile on my bodyguard's face. She never failed to make me feel at ease, and on impulse I hugged her.

Caroline laughed and hugged me back. "Is everything all right, my Lady?"

From her arms I felt a shudder ripple through me as the weight of the sombre and frightening day washed over me like a torrent. I nodded, collecting myself as I swallowed the lump rising in my throat.

"Yes," I smiled up at her, though my eyes felt bright. "I am happy that you are here with me, that is all."

"As am I," Caroline gave me a sideways look, probably noticing that I was close to tears, but she chose not to comment on it. She indicated the dress she'd picked out for me on the bed. "It really is quite a beautiful gown, and the cut will suit you well, I think."

Caroline helped me into the yellow dress and the material shimmered down around me like an ocean in the early-morning sunlight. I allowed myself a moment to appreciate it's design, dimly aware that only a few months ago, preparing for an evening's celebration would have been of the utmost priority, not merely a necessity. The dress had a wide, straight neckline and very short cap sleeves. The waistline was high, sitting just below my breasts, and the skirt was loose and flowing.

"I'm going to freeze," I told her dryly. "Where did the people of Kvatch even come by such a dress? It doesn't look Colovian."

Caroline gave me a critical look, then made for the rack of clothing again, searching through the hanging garments again. "It probably belonged to somebody in the Count's household," she replied, as she searched.

I sat on the bed and watched her, doubting it. Count Goldwine had maintained an almost-entirely male household, and it had been common knowledge that he'd preferred the company of men in his bed, too, though traditionally his position would have required that he produce an heir with a suitable noblewoman regardless of his personal preferences. Too late for that now. The dress had likely belonged to one of the upper-class women from the city, I reasoned, hoping that the woman it had been made for still lived, and had simply loaned it to whoever had collected the clothing for us.

Caroline emerged from the clothing rack a moment later with a short white cape and helped ease it over my hair and settle it on my shoulders, pinning it so that it wouldn't slip. "There. If you are still cold, you can raise the hood, or move closer to a fire," she looked me up and down, and then nodded, satisfied.

She then got herself ready, and I sealed the letter to Martin, deciding that I should take it to the gathering and enquire about a courier there. Once Caroline was dressed in a straight blue dress, and had wrestled her leather cuirass over the top of it, she fastened her weapons belt and then announced that we might as well go.

–

The celebration consisted of a large gathering of townsfolk around a huge bonfire in the middle of the green area in front of the meeting house. We must have been late in arriving, because people were already dancing in front a trio of musicians that had set up alongside a wagon, which was serving wines and ales. Beside it were several food stands, and across the other side of the bonfire I could see the Captain sitting with several people at a long table that had been brought outside.

Caroline lead us to the table, and the Captain and his company stood to meet us.

"Ah, my Lady, as ever you are a vision to behold!" he spoke up, bowing, and those around him hurriedly did the same.

"Good evening," I returned their bows with a small bob of my own and made sure I was smiling when I rose. "Kvatch certainly knows how to put together a party on short notice," I commented, indicating the revelries.

"Yes, well," the Captain motioned that I take a seat nearby, looking somewhat uncomfortable all of a sudden. "We don't have much, but everybody contributed what they could to make your visit more comfortable. And besides, everybody could stand to let their hair down a little for once," he shifted my seat toward the table as I sat for me, before Caroline had a chance to. "You simply gave us the perfect excuse," he added.

"Well, it's wonderful," I settled myself, hoping that I sounded genuine to him.

Caroline was offered a seat then as the Captain said I was too kind, but I was distracted by the sight of Ilend, who had appeared very suddenly by my side.

I tried not to startle as I looked up to him. "Ilend?"

"My Lady," he dipped his head a little. "I was hoping that you might allow me to borrow your bodyguard for a dance," he indicated Caroline, who had just been about to sit down.

Caroline laughed, at his formality I supposed, and I raised my eyebrows at her. "You don't need to ask _my_ permission to dance with her," I told him.

"Come on," Caroline stood up, smiling and placing her hand on Ilend's shoulder, and I was alarmed to see a softness in her eyes as he turned to her.

When had _this_ happened? On the journey to Skingrad? But...how? And – Caroline had never shown interest in _anybody_...but of course she was entirely within her rights to...

My thoughts pranced around at this development as Ilend took Caroline's hand. Caroline looked back to me. "I will not be gone long, my Lady."

I tried to muffle a laugh that bubbled its way to the surface, out of surprise. "No, please," I said hurriedly, indicating the dancing area. "Take all the time you like. I am perfectly happy here."

"That's right, take your time," Captain Matius chimed in from over my shoulder, seemingly unaffected by Ilend and Caroline's manner. "We will take care of her."

I rolled my eyes a little at Caroline, at the Captain's words, and my bodyguard stifled at laugh of her own, as Ilend lead her away.

"Well," I said in a lowered voice as I watched them depart for the dancing area. "This _is_ interesting."

"Lady Passero," Captain Matius spoke up, obviously both dismissing Ilend and Caroline from his mind, and not hearing my mutter. "Let me introduce you to some of the survivors of the siege who wished to meet you."

I dragged my eyes away from the retreating form of Caroline and turned to the Captain, noticing he was indicating several people around us at the table. With a pang of what I could only call jealousy, I realised there would be no dancing for me tonight; none would ask me, owing to my status.

 _Stop sulking_ , I reminded myself yet again, as I smiled at each person he introduced me to. There was a Breton man who's name I didn't catch as Captain Matius hurried on to introduce me to three priests from the Chapel; Oleta, Ilav and Anita. Before I could comment the Captain had moved on to introduce a large but beautiful Nord woman in a rich blue velvet dress, who he told me was Sigrid, an alchemist who was the only survivor of the Mage's guild. I opened my mouth to say hello and the Captain spoke up again before I could, moving on to introduce the other faces amongst us. I nodded hello to each as he sped through them, giving up on saying anything for the moment, and when he stopped for breath, I glanced at Captain Matius to ensure that he wasn't going to continue.

"It is lovely to meet you all," I said, unsure of what exactly was expected of me in this situation. My reply seemed to satisfy most of the people at our table, who turned back to their meals, drinks and conversations with their neighbours. As a plate of food and tankard of something was placed down in front of me, I noticed that the priests sitting opposite me were still watching me, with hopeful looks on their faces.

I smiled at the Redguard woman whose name I _thought_ was Oleta, and opened conversation between us. "I must thank you, for taking care of me in the Chapel, after the Oblivion gate was closed."

Oleta smiled nervously in return, and I noticed she was fidgeting with her hands, turning the fork in her hands over again and again. "Oh! You don't have us to thank for that, my Lady," she said, a little too loudly. "Brother Martin took care of your needs, when you were brought in to us," she cast her eyes down suddenly, and she added in a lowered voice. "I mean. The Emperor."

The other female priest at the table; a young, small Breton woman who I remembered had been introduced as Anita, giggled a little. "Sorry, my Lady. It is _still_ so odd, to think that Martin was a Prince in hiding during his time with us."

"There's no need to apologise. It must be a very strange thing," I agreed. "He wasn't aware of who his true father was, either. When I told him, he thought I was a mad woman," I confided. "He only agreed to accompany me as far as Prior Maborel, who he said could assess me for head trauma."

Anita muffled a laugh at this, but Oleta elbowed her into silence and spoke up. "My Lady; Brother Martin...how is he?"

I was taken aback by the question, and my look must have propelled Oleta into explaining further.

"It's only," she added hurriedly, then shook her head. "So many were lost, in those days, and we all worked so hard together to keep hold of what and who we had left."

"I'm sorry," I felt compelled to say, but she continued as though she hadn't heard me.

"During the siege," she continued, and I felt that our conversation was opening a floodgate of pent up anxiety in the woman. "Martin worked with us but you could see his despair. I worried for him – we all did," she added hastily, placing the fork she had been fidgeting with down on her plate resolutely. "And then he was gone," she shrugged, a little helplessly.

 _She loved him_ , I wondered? Martin mustn't have been aware of it, or if he had been, must not have acted upon it, because I doubted that, once in love, Martin was capable of leaving his lover without saying goodbye, regardless of how temporary he believed the leaving to be at the time.

"He is safe," I spoke up quietly, not entirely certain how to negotiate the matter of our affection for one another in case my speculation about her feelings for Martin were true. Best left unsaid.

"Is he happy?" Anita spoke up now.

I nodded, turning away from Oleta's cheerless expression and swallowing the lump in my throat as I looked upon the younger priest again. "He is pleased in the knowledge that he can help save all of Tamriel," I told them truthfully. "Once he realised this, he grew more purposeful, and peaceful."

Feeling weighed down by the turn of the conversation and the fresh ache of my own longing for Martin, I was relieved when the Captain interrupted us to introduce me to an Orc woman who was standing by him. She was holding a package wrapped in canvas and tied with yellow ribbon.

"Lady Passero – meet Batul gra-Sharob, one of the finest smiths in all of Tamriel," he said fondly. The Orc woman seemed to blush, but it was difficult to tell in the low light. "She has been finishing our gift to you," he added.

"Gift?" I blinked up at her, then stood hurriedly as she held the parcel out to me. "Thank you," I said, taking it from her. "You are all _far_ too kind to me."

"It is the least that we can offer as thanks," Batul answered, and then motioned to the parcel. "If it doesn't fit, come by my stall in the morning, and I'll adjust it."

"I-" I stared down at the parcel in my arms, wondering what they had given me. "Fit?"

The Captain seemed excited, and urged me to open it, so without further prompting, I untied the ribbon and turned back the canvas. Curiosity warred with guilt, as I held up the gift; petite and beautifully woven silvery-white chain mail, that was lighter than any mail I had ever felt. In the centre, the black fox of Kvatch had been recently painted carefully onto the interlocking metal, that felt more like silk than metal.

I couldn't hide my surprise at the beauty of the armour. "Wherever did you come by such a thing? Did you make it?" I asked the last of the smith.

Batul shook her head. "I merely adjusted it, my Lady, though it pleases me to see you appreciate it."

The Captain spoke up. "It was found in the Castle armoury, battered and tarnished, after the siege, when we were trying to recover items that we might barter with," he told me. "We _think_ it's Ayleid," he added proudly.

I shook my head at him, wondering why they hadn't kept it to use in an exchange for something to repair the city with. "You could not barter with _this_?" I asked.

He seemed somewhat pleased by my reaction. "In truth, we didn't look twice at it, until recently. Batul has been repairing it and some other items, this past week," he shrugged. "It seemed an appropriate way to thank our Hero."

I cast my eyes over the armour again, realising that wearing it would once and for all make the Hero of Kvatch title stick, if I'd had any doubts on the matter. "Thank you," I said, genuinely overcome. "I shall wear it with pride."

The Captain raised his tankard to me. "May it protect you in the days to come, as you have protected us," he toasted.

I couldn't stop the flush creeping along my cheeks as the rest of the table raised their tankards in echo, and then everybody drank. I was rendered speechless by their generosity, their certainty in me, and as I caught Oleta's eye as I looked around the table, fresh guilt pressed against me and I was reminded that I hadn't journeyed to Kvatch either time to save it, but that in completing my own tasks, I suppose I had.

The impromptu ceremony over, the table's occupants returned to their own discussions, and the Orc smith left with a bow. I thanked her again and watched her leave, my eyes drawn to the dancers as she moved by them. Caroline and Ilend were there, spinning to the wild and merry tune being picked out on the guitar, flute and drum the musicians were playing.

They looked happy, and, shaking away the guilt by reminding myself that I had just pledged a percentage of my family's fortune to the repair of the city, I realised that I was, too. Despite the events of the day, I felt, at this moment, relatively contented.

The night continued on, and I continued to talk with the survivors of Kvatch, whose spirits seemed high.

I was enquiring to the Captain about a courier to deliver my letter to Bruma, where I knew it would be more easily passed on to Martin, when a horn sounded from somewhere in the green, and conversations ebbed as all turned to look at who had made the sound, though none seemed greatly alarmed by it.

Wondering what was happening now, I spotted the horn-blower at the side of the green; a soldier in Kvatch chainmail; and behind him, two more soldiers, holding something between them. All three were marching forward into the green, an air of ceremony around them as the crowds parted to make way.

Suddenly realising what the two guards were carrying, I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth in shock.

 _The body of Ruma Camoran_. I paled, watching in horror as the guards stopped beside the bonfire, and noted that the body was secured to a crucifix; ropes wound around her wrists and neck, and waist, securing her to the poles. The hole in her chest had been covered with a fresh prisoner tunic, and her hands were no longer bound by the steel gauntlets she had used to take her own life with.

"Tonight, good people of Kvatch!" the soldier who had sounded the horn called out in a loud, sonorous voice. "We celebrate new beginnings as we put the destruction of the past behind us."

I glanced at Captain Matius beside me; he was watching the display calmly. This must have been intended all along.

The guard's speech continued, but I didn't hear his words, as I watched the other two guards elevate the crucifix and lean it down onto the enormous bonfire with a _crash._ I startled, as sparks flew into the air as Ruma's body, weighed down by the posts she was tied to, landed on the blaze.

I heard my name being spoken from the bonfire during the guard's speech, but didn't react, my eyes glued to the fire. Ruma's body had caught alight, and I fought back nausea as the smell of burning flesh began to creep its way around the common.

 _What did you think they would do with the body,_ I asked myself? Her form grew more insubstantial as the flames roared around it and a gust of wind made the blaze flutter wildly. _This might be the Captain's way of offering the people of Kvatch some closure._

A hand touched my arm and I startled and turned, to see Caroline looking down at me. I hadn't even noticed that she had returned. How long had she been there?

Wordlessly, she managed to convey a look that told me she was here if I needed her, and also not happy with the show. She let go of my arm and stood behind my chair, ever silent.

I turned back to the bonfire, and noticed that most people had stopped watching and were going back to their previous entertainments. The musicians began playing again, and the trance that the sight of the burning ceremony had created was broken. People started talking again, though I noticed those at our table no longer wore such easy smiles. Doubtless the sight of the Mythic Dawn woman had brought back memories of the siege, closure or not.

_Or perhaps, like you, they don't consider watching a body burn to be entertainment._

"My Lady," Caroline leaned over my chair and spoke louder than she needed to. "The hour is late and we must rise early if we are to reach Anvil before sunset tomorrow."

I nodded and rose, gathering the gifted chainmail into my arms. "Of course. Captain," I forced a small smile onto my face, feeling somewhat blank from the burning. "Thank you for the lovely evening, but Caroline is right."

Disappointment was on his face. "You are leaving us tomorrow?"

I nodded. "Don't worry, Ilend has everything he needs to access funds for your rebuild efforts."

"That's not what I meant," he stood hastily. "There are many in Kvatch who had hoped you would stay."

I crossed my brows at him, wondering if he truly hadn't heard of Bruma's plight; it had been mentioned several times since we had arrived, though never directly to him, I supposed. I had assumed that word would travel fast.

"Captain Matius, I do appreciate the hospitality that Kvatch has extended to me but there is a war taking place in Tamriel and Cyrodiil is at the centre of it," I balanced my tone with another smile so that my words wouldn't appear reproachful, as out of place as the smile would have been. "Unless Caroline and I continue on our journey as planned, other cities will suffer the same fate as Kvatch. But, perhaps once my quests are completed," I added, aware that I had the attention of everybody at the table. "We might return to Kvatch for a time."

The Captain accepted this of course, for he could not truly _make_ me stay, and after a few farewells Caroline and I began walking back to our tent.

We walked in silence, and I focussed on the sounds filtering toward us from the celebration, hugging the chain mail I had been gifted close to my chest. The path was well-lit, and Masser cast its own light over the settlement, giving it a more slightly bloody hue.

Such an odd night. It was clear that yes, the people of Kvatch _had_ needed to have that gathering for their own sakes, and that I had merely been the excuse for it. The shock of seeing Ruma Camoran's body being laid on the pyre had worn off; at least they hadn't burned her alive, which _may_ have occurred, had she not sacrificed herself earlier that day. I had no empathy for the woman, who had killed many in the name of her false-God and father and hunted me viciously, but I personally did not wish to witness such a thing. I shuddered, hugging my chainmail closer. I didn't want to think about it.

But, I remembered, there _was_ a revelation from the celebration that I _did_ want to know more about. I cast my bodyguard a look, as we hurried across the green that our tent ran alongside.

"So," I tested her. "Ilend?"

She cast me an askew glance, a smile on her face. "Yes, Ilend. I did not expect that either."

"Well, no," I reasoned to her. "Love is rarely _expected_."

Caroline spluttered a laugh. "It's a little early to talk of love, my Lady. We only met this morning."

I smiled to myself, my mood lighter given the opportunity to tease her. "You must have had _quite_ a journey to Skingrad, to have made such an impression on one another. He held you in his arms, practically all night," I added.

Caroline untied our tent doorway and motioned for me to enter. I was surprised to see a look of fondness on her expression, and not one of embarrassment. But then, why should she be embarrassed about anything?

"You were right about him," she told me, following me into the tent and re-tying the door toggles closed. "There is an honour about him, that one can't fail to notice."

I sat down on the edge of my bed, placing the chain mail next to me, and removed my cape. "I am sorry, then, that we need to leave before you have time to get to know him better," I told her truthfully. In all of my years with Caroline, I had never once seen her take an interest in anybody else, not romantically at least.

Caroline waved it off, and I was relieved to see that she didn't seem regretful in the slightest. "If it is meant to be, my Lady..."

She left it at that, but I understood her meaning.


	34. The Morning After

_Lively music and conversations filter through the darkness and I open my eyes as Martin gathers me into his arms. We spin around the bonfire, laughing as our legs tangle and we almost trip over each other._

_And then somebody is close beside us, invading our moment. I look up and see Ruma Camoran, in Mythic Dawn robes, the sun sigil on its chest blazing hot with flames. Before I can scream, she has plunged her hand into Martin's chest, shattering his ribcage and gripping her hand around his heart._

I woke with a start, to the sound of my own heartbeat, hammering wildly in my ears. The first thing I saw was the twinkling of the tiny lanterns that had been strung across the roof of our tent, and I watched them flickering as I lay recovering from the nightmare.

Then I turned, wiping sweat from my brow with the back of my hand, and sat on the edge of the bed, looking over at Caroline. She was still asleep in her bundle of blankets.

I sighed shakily, standing and making for the dresser.

There was no need to analyse the nightmare for hidden meanings or truths; it was clearly the product of the previous day's events. It hadn't even felt particularly real. It was natural that I felt a little disoriented and frightened after it, I told myself.

After I washed my face with cool water from the bowl on the dresser, I padded across the floorboards to the tent entryway and peered out through a gap, to gauge the hour. The sky was indigo but the horizon was pink. It would soon be dawn.

Somewhat relieved that I didn't have to make myself go back to sleep, I began preparing for the day; lighting the larger lanterns, then dressing myself in a pair of thick, comfortable brown hose and mid-thigh-length long-sleeved purple tunic to train in. I plaited my hair back from my face and looked around for my boots.

Caroline woke part way through my preparations, and joined me shortly after, insisting that we eat something before we began. I ate a few blackberries, not wanting to fill my stomach in case Caroline suggested we begin with a run around the settlement, as I had a feeling she would.

"Where is your new armour, my Lady?" Caroline asked me, as she tied her own hair back and then started putting on her boots.

"Next to my bed," I told her. "Do you think I should wear it now?"

She did. "If you intend on wearing it in Oblivion, it would be a good idea to get used to moving in it as soon as you can. And," she added, "if it doesn't fit, we can have the smithy adjust it before we leave."

I saw her point and retrieved it, shrugging it over my head. The mail jangled smoothly over me, the bottom of it brushing my thighs, just below my hips. The sleeves stopped just after my elbows. Caroline helped me fasten a series of small buckles along my shoulders and sides, which closed up the neckline and tightened the fit of the body of the armour.

I admired it as Caroline moved away and began sorting through her pack. She returned with a pair of leather forearm greaves, showing me how to secure them onto the armour, so that the chain mail wouldn't fall noisily to my shoulders every time I lifted my arms.

Next she handed me my sword belt, empty of its sword, and I buckled it quickly, motioning to the greaves once I was done. "Where did you get these?"

"They're mine," she replied. "I don't wear them often, unless I know I'll be doing a lot of archery. You can keep them, if you like," she offered.

"Oh - thank you."

"Why don't you lift your arms – is the weight of the armour all right? Not too heavy?" Caroline asked me.

I did as she bade, and shook my head. "No, it doesn't feel like I'm wearing armour at all," I said truthfully. "What is it made out of?" I looked down at the chain mail, marvelling again at its finely-knitted silvery-white links. Was it Ayleid, as Captain Matius had suggested?

"You can lower your arms now," Caroline said, with some amusement. "Let's go, and we'll see how much it weighs _after_ training."

I returned her amused look and lowered my arms. "What are we going to do? Run around the encampment?"

We moved to exit the tent. Caroline untied the tent's door toggles and then drew the flaps back, so the tent would remain open. "No, I don't think so," she said, in a lowered tone. "It's still early, and we don't want to wake anybody if we can help it," she considered for a moment longer. "Some stretches, to warm up, then your drills."

"Weaponless?" I confirmed quickly, and Caroline nodded.

I frowned. While I was relieved that we wouldn't be going on an early-morning run, I had to ask, "Can't I use a sword?"

Caroline shook her head as we halted a few paces from our tent, on the open green. She indicated that I follow her movements, and raised her arms, holding them out straight either side of her, then rolled her shoulders in small, circular motions.

I hurriedly copied her pose, reminding myself that during our training sessions, Caroline was my teacher, and didn't have to answer to me, or call me Lady, if she didn't want to.

"You _do_ remember that I take a sword with me into Oblivion, don't you?" I pressed. "Shouldn't I at least learn how to strike with it?"

"Focus, please," Caroline evaded my question again, moving her foot out to tap at my knee. It buckled a little under virtually no pressure from her, and I flushed as I collected myself, remembering that I was supposed to regulate my stance, even during warm-up, to maintain balance. I looked down and positioned my feet properly, and bent my knees slightly, distributing my weight more evenly between them this time.

Caroline stretched to one side, effortlessly arching her body down so both of her hands were pressed to the earth in front of her right boot, and I swept my body around in what I hoped was as graceful echo of her motions, feeling my back, legs and arms all stretching, but not uncomfortably. My plait swung down and hit me in the face, and I blew at it, to try keep it out of my eyes.

"I'm sure they have some practise swords lying around here somewhere," I tried again, hoping for some sort of compromise, when Caroline shifted again and mirrored her previous pose, stretching out her other side.

I sighed when no reply came, and tried to push the frustration away, and to focus on what we were doing, as she had urged me to. A few stretches later, Caroline stood and shook herself a little.

"That will do," she told me, and I relaxed my pose as Caroline turned and faced me. "I'll be your practise dummy for today," she gave me a half-smile. "Show me what you remember of your drills."

I nodded, casting my mind back to our training sessions at Cloud Ruler Temple, closing my eyes for a moment to focus, and exhaling slowly. Caroline had been insistent that Martin and I control our breathing as much as we did our limbs.

 _You are close to losing the battle if you have lost control of your breath_ , she had said.

When I opened my eyes, I positioned myself and began the series of sweeping arm movements she had taught us, shifting my body in response to my arms, to put more weight behind the blows, and to ensure I retained my balance.

"Slow down," Caroline blocked each of my movements, her arm or leg smoothly moving to where the training dummy blocks would usually be. "Speed comes only after control."

I huffed a little as I raised my arm in an arc, to meet Caroline's waiting forearm. "I _have_ control," I told her, eager for something more difficult to try, something that would make me truly feel as though I was preparing for the fight to come. "Why are you holding me back?" I couldn't help but ask, gritting my teeth.

With a flick of her foot that barely made contact, again, I wavered slightly, and flushed. She didn't need to say any more, and I slowed the drill down to half the speed I'd been practising it at.

For about half an hour I repeated the movements she had taught me, my hands leading my body in what I hoped was a smooth, continuous, and correct way. I hadn't felt unsteady on my feet since Caroline's earlier reminder; something I felt proud about, when Caroline told me to stop.

Caroline's eyes flickered either side of us quickly. "Very good," she told me.

I allowed myself a swift glance around, too. The green had been empty when we had emerged from the tent, but now there were a few people standing at the edge of the green, beside the nearly-empty stalls, watching our display. A few Kvatch guards stepped into the green from one side, but seemed preoccupied with their own business, and paid us no heed.

I held my head up high, as my breathing eased. "Aren't you going to teach me anything new?" I asked.

Caroline shook her head. "Not today," she replied, eyeing the guards for a moment, though still spoke to me.

 _Perhaps she is checking if Ilend is amongst them_ , I thought with a smile.

"Tomorrow, if you can do all of that without needing to be reminded _twice_ about your balance; then we'll move onto practise swords," she finished.

I flushed a little, certain that the Kvatch guards had heard Caroline's assessment of my abilities, and wondered what they would make of their _Hero_ being treated like an amateur.

They _had_ heard us, and one of the guards did a double-take as he looked at us properly. I caught a startled expression as he gasped, "It's her!"

The exclamation confused me, and I crossed my brows as I watched the other guards turn quickly and look at me.

At the same moment, I heard Caroline mutter a curse, and then she had grabbed my arm and propelled me behind her, holding me back as her other hand flew to the sword at her belt and drew it with a barely-audible hiss. "Stay behind me!" she commanded.

"Caroline!" I cried out in surprise as I was swung off balance, and scrambled to regain my footing. Across the green, I could see the Kvatch guards speeding toward us, and baulked when I saw the looks of malice and hatred underneath the armour and helmets. Automatically, I tried to scuttle backwards, but Caroline had a firm grip on my arm.

"Sound the alarm!" Caroline called out to the onlookers across the green. "It's the Dawn!"

Before the words could settle, Caroline met the first of the attackers, letting go of me to hold her sword with both hands, and it met the sword of the guard – _agent_ , I told myself – with a ring of steel against steel.

I raced back to the tent, hating to leave Caroline, but I had to retrieve my bow if I was going to help. _There are only three of them_ , I told myself, trying to remain calm. _She can hold them off for a few seconds._

What were the Mythic Dawn doing in the Kvatch settlement? Were there many more of them?

"What are you _doing_?" Caroline screamed after me. "Come back! Ugh!" her last was full of effort and directed at her attackers, as I heard another swipe and clang of swords meeting.

My bow and quiver were beside the dresser at the back of the tent, and I retrieved them both, shouldering the quiver as I hurried back toward the entrance, grabbing an arrow before I had reached the entryway.

A large body appeared in front of me, the man's arm shooting out and hand grasping my wrist like a vice, tugging me outside of the tent in a single, swift movement.

I screamed, dropping my bow, but in the other hand, which held the arrow I had been about to notch, I clenched a fist around the shaft. Before I thought about what I was doing, I plunged the arrow head into the man's forearm with all of the force I could muster.

He roared in pain and let go of me, and I ran. Caroline was holding the other two attackers off, as a pair of Kvatch guards entered the green and headed for her.

I had to assume – hope - that because they didn't run toward or attack me, they would help her.

I raced across the green and to one of the market stalls, grabbing for a longbow that was for sale there, and ducking behind the stall for cover. The hour was early enough that the stall was still unmanned.

As I turned, I notched an arrow, and then stood, ready to fire.

The man who had attacked me at the tent had followed me, and was only a few steps away. I startled back and cried out in surprise as I loosed the arrow at point-blank range. There was no way I could miss; it hit him in the centre of his forehead, and from the force at such a proximity, it toppled him instantly.

The man crashed over the front of the stall, his own momentum carrying him. The front of the stall split and splintered as he fell, and I scrambled back to stop him from landing on me.

When he had stopped falling, and was face down and dead, inches from my feet, I exhaled with relief. I shakily reached for another arrow, but saw that the guards who had raced onto the green _had_ been legitimate Kvatch soldiers, and had helped Caroline dispatch the other two agents. The fight was already over; Caroline was sheathing her sword, talking animatedly to the guards with her.

Replacing the bow on a section of the stall that hadn't been crippled underneath the Dawn agent's weight, and putting the arrow back in my quiver, I then side-stepped past the man I had felled, and hurried back to Caroline's side.

"- kind of security do you call this?" she sounded furious. "How could they so easily make it past the gates?"

"They might not have come via the gates-"

"We don't know, we weren't on duty-!"

Caroline's eyes flashed as she turned to me; I slowed my jog and halted in front of her. I pointed behind myself quickly, over my shoulder, at the destroyed merchant's stand. "I shot one," I said hurriedly.

She nodded, her breaths laboured. "Go straight to the Captain," Caroline ordered the two guards, turning back to them. "Tell him what happened here. He needs to double-check the identities of all his other guards, and that the boundaries of the settlement haven't been compromised to allow the Dawn easy entry whenever they please. Go!" she added, pointing toward the meeting hall when they didn't move straight away.

The soldiers seemed annoyed, but I could see they knew better than to argue with my bodyguard. It was no wonder they weren't happy about Caroline ordering them, I thought, after they had just helped her, but they nodded, then bowed to me and left.

Caroline turned on me, and her voice was tight as she said, "We need to leave Kvatch."

She ushered me back into our tent, and stooped down to retrieve my bow at the entrance, handing it over. The silence became heavy between us, and I grew nervous as Caroline let the tent door flap fall closed behind us, but didn't bother tying it down.

"Are you all right?" she asked me. She still seemed very angry, her voice shaking.

I shouldered my bow, and nodded quickly. "I'm fine. And you?"

Caroline shook her head, not answering me, but launching into what I had been expecting. "Why did you _run_?" she asked, though her tone carried more desperation, than anger. "I told you to stay behind me."

I found my response quickly enough. "I was unarmed," I said, trying not to sound accusing. "There were three of them. I couldn't just stand there!"

Caroline rubbed her hand across her forehead, a pained expression there. "I am sorry, my Lady. Kvatch was taking such care of you that I let my guard down and assumed it would be safe – but, it doesn't matter," she stood taller, indicating our satchels, which were near the beds. "Pack lightly," she sighed. "We must be on our way."

"You don't have to _apologise_ ," I told her, as I moved toward my pack. "I'm the idiot who ran away from her bodyguard in the heat of battle," I muttered, voicing what I knew she must have thought.

Caroline huffed a laugh. "You aren't an idiot, my Lady," she sounded less angry. " _I_ am the idiot," she added in a mutter. "In future," she retrieved something from her pack, then handed it over the bed between us, "you are to remain armed. At all times."

She was holding out a silver dagger, the hilt toward me, much like the dagger she had handed me to cut my hair off during the escape from the Tower, so I knew it was hers, and that it was standard Blades issue.

I glanced at her for confirmation, as I took it. "You can't call yourself an idiot when you just saved us," I told her, looking around my sword belt for somewhere to put the dagger.

"Here, let me," Caroline shifted around the bed and held her hand back out for the dagger, then tucked it into a tiny loop in the side of the belt, which I hadn't noticed. "You'll be able to reach it quickly, from here," she sighed, putting her hands on her hips and inspecting me. She seemed satisfied enough with what she saw, but didn't return to packing straight away.

I stared up at her, the reality of what had just happened finally hitting me. "Caroline, what was the Mythic Dawn _doing_ here?" I asked her.

"It doesn't matter. They've been dealt with, and we're leaving before there are any more _surprises_ ," Caroline pursed her lips, unimpressed, then returned to packing her bag.

I turned back to my pack, too, removing clothing that I wouldn't need, to lighten it. "They seemed surprised to see me," I murmured, unable to help but speculate a little further. "Perhaps they were trying to find out what happened to Ruma Camoran, and stumbled onto us by chance?" I pondered. The sound of many voices drawing closer from outside of the tent made me look up to the entryway swiftly.

"That is probably the case," Caroline said in a distracted voice, as she strode across the tent and flung aside the flap. "Ah, Captain Matius!" she called out, loudly and in an ironic sort of welcome. I couldn't see those approaching, yet, but I felt my shoulders relax a little at her greeting.

The Captain charged into our tent, with about ten guards in his wake, his eyes searching, until he saw me. "My Lady, are you all right-?"

"She is well," Caroline cut him off. "I trust that you will conduct an enquiry into how three Mythic Dawn agents masquerading as Kvatch soldiers managed to gain entry to your settlement," she moved back to the task of packing her bag. I followed her example, and continued to organise what I wanted to take with me, grateful for the moment that Caroline was taking charge.

"I'm looking into the matter personally," he assured Caroline, a frown on his face as he watched her. "But I came here first, to see that you were both all right," he added, somewhat defensively. "Is there anything you need?"

"Yes, thank you," I spoke up, before Caroline could dismiss him, as I sensed she was about to do. There was no point in burning bridges by being rude. "Perhaps you could send somebody to where the horses are being kept, to prepare them for our departure?"

Of course, the Captain looked a little hurt. I closed my pack, now sufficiently lighter, with only a single change of clothes and a few minor bits and pieces.

"Arenar, see to Lady Passero's horses, will you?" he said to one of his guards. One of his company left the tent.

Remembering something else, I moved to the table, and retrieved the letter to Martin that I had put there the previous night. I had been interrupted by the burning of Ruma Camoran's body before I'd been able to finish enquiring about a courier.

"And, might you have a courier take this to Bruma?" I asked, stepping up to the Captain, and holding the letter out. "Captain Burd will know what to do with it."

The Captain nodded slightly, taking the letter slowly from me. I could see the guilt written all over his face, and felt wretched for it. "Anything you need, my Lady."

"Captain," I assured him, feeling the need to ease his mind. "We _are_ fine. Please, don't blame yourself," I smiled, holding my arms out. "Look. The wonderful gift you gave me fits," I told him, indicating the armour, trying to change the subject.

Captain Matius blinked, then smiled a little, though it was a forced smile that didn't reach his eyes. "And you wear it well," he commented quietly.

Caroline stepped up beside me, handing me my pack, which I had left on the bed when I'd gone to retrieve the letter. "If you have everything you need, my Lady," she said, indicating that we leave the tent.

I nodded, shouldering my pack, and readjusting my bow, so it wouldn't slip. "Yes, I'm ready."

The Captain and his guards parted to let us by. Outside, dawn had broken and the sky was a soft, pale mauve colour above us, and a brighter, rich golden colour on the horizon, where the sun had risen behind some clouds.

Across the green, I could see several Kvatch guards removing the bodies of the felled Mythic Dawn agents from view, wanting to clear up before the majority of the settlement woke I assumed. All wore sombre expressions. The easy mood and laughter that the previous night's celebrations had brought seemed to be a distant memory for them, already, in the light of the day.

I couldn't leave Kvatch like this, but I wasn't sure of how to make it better. And Caroline was right; my duty right now wasn't to these people; it was to Bruma.

"Where are the horses being kept?" Caroline was asking one of the guards, as the Captain and his soldiers exited the tent after us.

I left her to deal with directions and took a step back. "I suppose this is goodbye, for now," I said, holding my hand out to the Captain, remembering that the last time I had left Kvatch, with Martin, Captain Matius has held his hand out to me in a similar fashion. It was both a greeting, and farewell, used by commoners amongst themselves, and I recalled that at the time, I had been a little bemused by the gesture. "I am very sorry to have to leave so quickly," I tried for kindness.

The Captain hesitated for only a second before he took my offered hand, and then bowed, touching the back of my hand to his forehead as he did. "May you travel safe and return to Kvatch when you have forgiven us."

"Captain," I flushed; I hadn't intended _this_ by my gesture of friendship. "Thank you again," I tried to recover, as he rose. "For everything."

He let go of my hand. "The same to you."

Caroline put her hand on my shoulder. "This way, my Lady."

I nodded hurriedly to her and decided to leave the farewell at that. Caroline and I moved away in one direction, and the Captain and his soldiers went in another.

Ilend and Hod were amongst the few people who had gathered at the stables by the time Caroline and I had arrived, to say farewell. Ilend had said a polite goodbye to me, but then I had left him and Caroline to talk in private. I'd spoken instead to Hod, who'd excitedly informed me that Oleta had said he could stay in Kvatch for a little while, with all the other kids that were there, who he said he was having fun playing with.

And by kids, he'd meant orphans, who were being taken care of by the Chapel priests in the wake of the siege on Kvatch.

He had asked me if I would tell his mother where he was, when I saw her in Anvil, and I promised that I would. The boy's simple acceptance and brightness lifted my spirits. I told myself that perhaps I had been mistaken in assuming Ruma Camoran's words about liberation had meant that his mother had been sacrificed to Mehrunes Dagon; perhaps we _would_ cross paths in Anvil. As faint a hope as it was, I clung to it, determined to allow myself to be optimistic.

Then the horses were ready and it was time to leave.

Caroline and I rode down and out of Kvatch, along the road that would lead us to the bigger, flatter Gold road, in silence. My arms and back ached a little, from the morning's exertions, and my mind reeled with thoughts of the morning's Dawn attack and Ruma's suicide and burning, but once again, I told myself to leave what had happened behind me, to prevent myself from spiralling down into purposeless melancholy. Until this was over; until Martin was on the throne, and the dragonfires were relit, I had to look ever-forward.

The day was calm and bright, and the air once we joined the main road smelled sweet, and felt pleasantly cool.

"Do you think you will return to Kvatch, once this is over?" I asked Caroline, as I turned my face up toward the sun and revelled in the fresh warmth it cast down on us.

"Who can say?" Caroline countered brightly. "Will you?"

I shrugged, glancing at her. Her watchful eyes were on the road ahead of us.

"I'm not sure," I replied, a part of me wanting to know what she and Ilend had said to one another in farewell, and I wondered how to encourage her to talk of it. "I wouldn't be surprised if Martin made me Countess there after all, now that I'm funding the rebuild of the city," I muttered.

Caroline glanced uncertainly at me for a moment, and then spoke gently. "I very much doubt that the Emperor will make you anything short of his Empress, my Lady."

I flushed, focusing on a cluster of Lady's Mantle plants bunched together on the side of the road, so I wouldn't have to look at her. I wasn't certain of how to respond. When Martin and I had promised that we would stand by one another once this war was over, of _course_ it meant that we would legitimise, and advance, our relationship.

But just as the thought of running an empire frightened Martin, the thought of being Empress of Tamriel terrified me, and Caroline bringing it out into the open had silenced me. In truth, I had not pondered what remaining with Martin would mean after the war, beyond the happiness that it would bring us both.

Caroline did speak up again, just as kindly as before. "Do you not believe he will stand by you?" she asked carefully.

"Of course he will," I said hurriedly. "We've promised..." I trailed off, wondering why I felt nervous about discussing such a matter with the person who I trusted the most.

It was an odd thing, to be determined and confident even in the face of daedra and life-threatening battle, but to baulk at discussing the future of a thing that only brought happiness to our lives. Perhaps it was only because matters of the heart were, I felt, supposed to remain private.

And suddenly, I didn't need to know any more about Caroline and Ilend's interest in one another. It was between them; it was my place to be happy for them, and no more.

I shook my head, smiling at Caroline. "It doesn't matter. We will work it out when the time comes," I nodded ahead of us. "Might we travel a little faster? The day is so beautiful, I'm sure the horses would appreciate the run, after being idle in the Kvatch stables for a few days."

My bodyguard smiled at me, though I could tell that she was worried for me; probably owing to the way I had changed the subject so quickly, but she agreed. "Of course."

I clicked my heels gently into Ilaria's flank and urged her forward into a run. Caroline sped Ebony up, and stayed by our side. For a time we focused on the road to Anvil, and nothing more.


	35. Anvil Gate

After maintaining our pace for some time, enjoying the simple pleasure of the fast ride, warmer temperatures, and scenery unfolding before us, a pair of startled deer leaped onto the road. They paid us and the thundering hooves of our horses no mind, skittered on the gravel for a moment, then found their footing and shot off into the woods on the other side of the road.

"Whoa!" I reigned Ilaria back to avoid colliding with the frightened beasts. Caroline did the same, immediately scanning the sparse wooded area that the deer had come from.

What had startled them into oncoming horses was immediately apparent. Caroline cursed, dismounting Ebony and unsheathing her sword in a single swift motion, and ran into the woods. I unhooked my bow from my shoulder and readied an arrow, but remained on horseback and commanded Ilaria to be steady.

There were daedra here. Specifically, two scamps, and both were tearing toward us now their intended quarry had fled. One of the scamps stopped and cried out with a guttural barking sound, and I loosed my arrow immediately, finding the paused creature's exposed neck in a matter of seconds.

The other scamp met Caroline head-on, and my bodyguard made short work of it, slashing at the creature's neck as it leaned out to bite her, and then with a turn, plunged a dagger in her other hand into the back of the scamp's head.

She jumped out of reach as the scamp flailed and then dropped, and convulsed its final death-throes.

I dismounted then, but drew another arrow and nocked it, certain that the scamp who had stopped to call had been signalling to more of them. I glanced around the woods as I hurried to Caroline, and when I reached her we straight away stood back-to-back, scanning the area for any signs of movement.

After a pause, when nothing came, Caroline said it was safe, for now, and we returned to our horses, but didn't mount up.

"There must be a gate nearby," Caroline said, grabbing Ebony's reigns, and looking at me. "Do we push on to Anvil, or close it first, my Lady?"

I considered how long we had been riding for, and deduced that we were likely already in Countess Umbranox's territory, so couldn't be all that far from Anvil city itself, though far enough that the Anvil guard hadn't arrived to take care of the gate, it seemed. The necessity to close each Oblivion gate as it opened weighed against me, and was heftier than the desire to arrive swiftly in Anvil.

"We find and close the gate," I decided, casting my eyes around for somewhere out of the way to leave Ilaria.

We lead the horses to the side of the woods that the deer had earlier disappeared safely into, and left them by a small water hole, untethered. I was confident that they wouldn't wander off, owing to their training, but if they were at risk of attack or theft, I wanted them to be able to escape.

It took us a very short time to prepare for our venture into the nearby gate, seeing as we both already wore our armour and were armed. We assembled some food, water, and a couple of small health potions into a pack that Caroline shouldered, and were on our way.

It didn't take long to find the Oblivion gate. It was in the middle of a clearing, similar to the one we'd come upon outside Bruma, and it had burned and flattened the ground in a circular shape around it. I shot a scamp on guard without any trouble, before it had even seen us, and Caroline and I made for the gate, without further hesitation. The gaping void curled in on itself with licks of flame, like a greedy mouth drawing us in, and the sight still made my breath catch as we neared the threshold and the heat rushing out of the porthole pushed and pulled against me. How was it possible that something inanimate exuded such malevolence?

Caroline and I looked at one another as we reached the gateway to Oblivion, and she nodded to me that she was ready, raising her sword. I nodded in reply, raising my bow, arrow ready to fly, and we stepped through together.

The clawing heat tugged at me from all directions, and the deafening, rushing sound echoed in my ears. It was impossible not to be scared. I didn't think I would ever become used to it, and in truth, I didn't want to. I felt that any who failed to fear the passing over from Mundus to Oblivion had lost the ability to feel anything, so it was a welcome fear. It sharpened my focus, and gave me the adrenaline I needed to act more swiftly, with more resolve.

When the strangeness of the transfer was over, the plane of Oblivion was laid out before me. Caroline was by my side, sword still raised.

"There's the tower," I murmured, indicating a building in the distance, over my bow. The telltale yellow light spilled from the topmost spire, plainly announcing the Sigil stone's location.

Caroline's eyes were on it. "Let's go," she said in a hushed voice.

We pressed onward, further away from the looming gate and across the blackened, rocky realm, entering a nearby cavern and creeping our way along the tunnels within. A river of bright orange lava flowed beside the path we were taking; the only light source. It bubbled occasionally, and we made sure to keep well clear of it. The heat radiating off it was immense, but as with all other journeys into Oblivion, I had begun sweating the moment my feet touched the ground, so more heat on top of the existing heat didn't truly bother either of us.

This was the second time I had ventured into Oblivion with Caroline, and we swiftly fell into the pattern we had discussed briefly and used during our first journey together. Swift looks and nods were the only communication between us; our attack mode was based on stealth, and I managed to fell nearly all of the daedra in our way, before they had become aware of our presence. When there were two or more, Caroline would charge in, after I had taken out the first and alerted the others that they were under attack. Each time we passed a fallen daedra, Caroline would stoop down and search it, for anything that would be of use to us further within the realm, stowing it in her backpack. More than ever, I was grateful for having my bodyguard with me, so as to avoid having to do that grisly, but necessary task.

We exited the cavern and neared the tower where the Sigil stone's light flared out of, and pressed against the side of a large boulder for cover as Caroline peered around it. She must have only had a fleeting moment's glance, but turned back to me and raised four fingers.

I nodded but she held up her hand for me to wait, then shook her head and held up the four again, then two.

 _Six_. I nodded again, exhaling slowly, and raised up my bow, taking a step in front of her.

Caroline held her arm out, though, to stop me from moving any closer, and I whipped my head around to her. She shook her head again, and instead held up her hand by way of explanation. I saw the blue crackle of Illusion magic begin to form, and understood, stepping back to give her room.

We hadn't needed to use Caroline's magic before in Oblivion, but we had discussed the attack, so I knew what to do. She would cast Frenzy on one of the daedra, which would make it attack its own kind. Then I'd step out, to fire on any not distracted by one of their own fighting them, and Caroline would swoop forward and finish off any who realised what was going on and where we were.

The spell left Caroline's hand and I drew breath, stepping around the rock immediately after she had let it loose. I saw it hit its intended target – a Dremora quite a way from us – and exhaled as I aimed at the nearest Dremora to us, who was still none the wiser to the attack we had begun.

The arrow soared, and as I reached for another, I heard one of the Dremora cry out in alarm; I flicked a glance to the others and saw that the one Caroline's spell had hit was shaking its head, as though confused. I watched it for a second longer, drawing the arrow, as I heard the cry of the first I had fired at.

All five of the other Dremora turned and watched their comrade, who I had hit in the arm unfortunately, and then as though as one, all six turned to observe me.

I fired my next arrow, and the moment it had left my bow Caroline grabbed me, and hauled me back behind our rocky cover, so I had no idea if it found its mark. I could hear the Dremora shouting, calling at us, their threats entirely indiscernible, being in daedric.

"What happened to the spell?" I yelled to Caroline, since there was no need to keep quiet; they had seen me, plain as day. I grabbed for another arrow, intending on firing while there was still a little range between us, as Caroline stuck her head and hand around the rock and cast Flames into the oncoming hoard.

She was back beside me, suddenly, as an arrow whizzed past our cover. Before I could fire my next shot, Caroline turned, grabbing me by the arm again and hauling me away from the oncoming Dremora.

"Move!" she commanded, as I dropped the arrow I had nearly made ready. I didn't argue, and we turned and ran back into the cave network we had recently emerged out of.

For a time we ran for our lives, and I wasn't certain if the thundering sound in my ears was my heartbeat or the footfalls of the pursuing Dremora. Then without warning, Caroline turned, and pressed us both against a wall in the cavern that was covered by a pool of shadow, where the light cast by the lava didn't reach.

It wasn't a moment too soon, as the first of the daedra stormed past us, roaring in anger, the sound echoing off the cavern walls. I caught the word "mortal" in its slurs, but the rest of the words were indecipherable. Another Dremora raced past our hiding spot, and then a third. I held my breath, and shakily drew an arrow, wincing and stilling as the arrow head scraped against the quiver. When no Dremora descended upon us, I finished nocking the arrow, but remained pressed against the cave wall, in the darkness, waiting for Caroline to indicate that it was safe for us to move again.

A fourth Dremora stepped into view, its stance rigid, and I saw that it used a bow and was moving slower only because it was scanning the cave more closely for us. I acted before it found us, for it surely would if I did nothing, and fired. My arrow whistled through the air as it was loosed, but the Dremora thankfully didn't have time to react before the arrow found its neck.

It cried out, once, in pain, before gurgling and dropping to the earth. This noise was enough for Caroline to propel us away from our hiding spot, and before the creature had died, we were away and edging through the tunnels, slower this time, back toward the exit that would lead us to the tower.

There would be two more Dremora before us, but Caroline and I could easily manage two. I reminded myself that there were three very fast, angry Dremora behind us somewhere, and desperately hoped that they wouldn't return to their posts too quickly.

As we exited the cave, Caroline once again grabbed my arm but this time pulled me downward. I crouched, as did she, and an arrow flew by us, so close to my ear that I felt the air pushed aside by it brush against me and instinctively raised my hand to my ear, to see if it had cut me.

Caroline launched herself at the Dremora who'd fired the arrow, and I got to my feet, surging into action by the near-miss, raising my bow and taking aim, but Caroline finished the creature off swiftly, since it had been a ranged fighter and hadn't had time to ready another arrow before she was upon it.

It had been standing guard, waiting for us in case we doubled back, I realised, as Caroline motioned for me to join her, to cover her, and then she ducked down to the creature and searched it swiftly.

Once again, I was alarmed at the apparent order that the Dremora seemed to display on occasion. It was always difficult for me to think of them as anything more than brainless, noisy beasts who ran and raged at you without a thought for their own safety. I turned and trained my arrow and eyes on the cave exit, daring any of the three Dremora who'd followed us in to show themselves, while at the same time praying to any of the Divines who were listening that they wouldn't.

Caroline made a triumphant little sound, and I heard a slight jangling sound. When I glanced at her, I saw that she held a ring of keys, that she'd taken from the Dremora's belt.

 _Good_. That meant our task was nearly over. The tower containing the Sigil stone was always locked, but one of the daedra that guarded it almost always had the key.

Caroline and I continued on then, neither of us keen to sit and wait for the three faster short-range Dremora to return to their posts. The sixth Dremora, it eventuated, _had_ been felled by my second arrow from earlier – the one I hadn't been certain had met its mark – and so we encountered no further obstacles between us and the tower that would allow us to put an end to this realm's connection to our world.

Once we were inside the tower, Caroline locked the door after us, and then tucked the keys into her backpack. The roaring, buzzing sound that the Sigil stone made allowed for no other sounds to broach it, and we climbed, resuming our earlier sneak-based strategy. There were a few scamps along the walkways, but the noise of the Sigil stone shooting its light up into the sky and down into the tower kept them from being alerted to our approach.

At the top of the tower, as always, stood three Dremora. They formed a triangle around the stone. As I angled myself around one of the entrances to the Sigil stone room, and aimed at the Dremora facing away from me, I noticed Caroline, across the way, positioned at another of the entrances, her hand raised.

I didn't wait to see what she had planned, and fired at my intended target. The first was always the easiest, because they remained perfectly still until they detected us. The Dremora I hit dropped like a stone, and the other two turned, alerted only by the movement, since this close to the Sigil stone, all other sounds were utterly impossible to hear.

A flare of blue caught my gaze, and I saw that Caroline _had_ cast a spell at the Dremora closest to her. Knowing that Frenzy hadn't worked previously, I assumed it was something else, but wasn't certain which Illusion spell would benefit us. But I trusted that Caroline would know what she was doing.

I quickly readied another arrow for the third Dremora, which had seen Caroline and was charging for her now, when suddenly, the second Dremora turned on its comrade, and took the charging one down with a swoop of its longsword.

Caroline stepped into the room, sword in hand, but not raised, as the Dremora she had cast a spell on turned to her and dipped to one knee. I gaped, as I watched the Dremora's mouth move as it said something to Caroline, but of course, couldn't hear what it said. I'm sure Caroline didn't either, but she glanced up at me from the alcove she was standing in, and nodded toward the Sigil stone.

Assuming that she had used a Charm spell on the Dremora, because how else could she have subjugated it, I hastened into the room and removed the glowing Sigil stone from its setting. The Dremora bowing in front of Caroline whipped its head around to me the moment I did, with hatred in its eyes, and got to its feet, beginning to charge for me as Oblivion dissolved around us. But by then it was too late, and we had won.

–

" _That was a close call," Mankar Camoran's voice is full of amusement._

_I drift through the whiteness that comes after Oblivion, and wonder if he has been watching us the entire time._

" _Many watch your progress with vested interest, little Hero," he chuckles, as I belatedly remember that he can hear my every thought during the ascent. "But none so close as myself and Lord Dagon," he adds._

" _Why are you hiding from me?" I ask lightly. In the white in-between realm, it's impossible to hold onto a single emotion, and any fear I feel drifts away as though its water slipping through fingers. "Why don't you come and face me?"_

_He laughs again, though there's no trace of malice. "And prevent you from completing your work?" he tuts. "All things at their proper time, Sarina."_

_His voice is like a caress, and as formless as I am, I propel myself away from it; the action causing Camoran to laugh again, and this time, as the whiteness starts to fade and I come back to myself, I feel the full weight of his insanity in the confidence of his laughter._

–

I knew that I was back, but I kept my eyes closed for the moment, listening to the sound of my breathing and making an effort to take slower breaths. I was standing on solid ground, and I could feel the Sigil stone, now cold, in my hands. The fresh breeze that Caroline and I had so been enjoying earlier pushed against me, cooling the sweat on my forehead and neck, and I shivered, and opened my eyes.

Caroline was walking toward me, in the process of sheathing her sword, and looked up to the deactivated Oblivion gate as she passed it, resting a hand on its rocky remains. Her hair had almost entirely fallen out of its ponytail, and was plastered to her forehead and face with sweat and ash, and knew that I must be in a similar state.

I stayed where I was, watching her approach, the bulk of my thoughts occupied by the latest conversation with Mankar Camoran. Not any of the particulars, as I was resolved to no longer try to find reason in his ramblings, and the conversation was too fresh to make sense of it, even if I'd wanted to.

I was merely still occupied by the single thought that, regardless of his motives in doing so, he was able to continually reach out to me from his Paradise, be it through my dreams, or after closing an Oblivion gate. I reminded myself that Mankar Camoran's intention was to gloat from where he was hidden, and to frighten me, for there could be no other purpose for his continual appearance. He wanted me to believe that he had all of the power, and that everything I was doing was actually serving him, likely either to make me despair that I was a tool of fate and my will didn't matter, or to make me second-guess my every move.

But I knew better. I _had_ to know better. The Oblivion gates were being formed continually to give Dagon a greater chance of breaking through from his realm into ours. Our closing the gates, then, could _not_ be part of his plan.

Caroline had slowed to a stop in front of me. "Did he speak to you again?" she sounded wary.

I nodded once, and realised, as I began to come back to the world, that I was holding the Sigil stone so hard that my fingers hurt and my knuckles had turned white. I loosened my grip, and stared down at the stone, holding it out to Caroline. "Do you want this?"

Caroline took it straight away, and swung her backpack around in front of her, stowing the stone away, out of sight. "Do you want to talk about it?"

I shook my head. "I'm all right," I told her. "Why don't we carry on to Anvil? The sun will set soon."

"As you like, my Lady."

We turned and headed back for the place we had left the two horses. After a moment's silence Caroline broke it.

"So," she said, with a half-laugh. "Remind me to never use Frenzy in Oblivion again."

A nervous bubble of laughter wound its way through me at this, and with the inert gate behind us now, I felt lighter for it. "I'm certain you won't need me to remind you of _that_."

Horses retrieved, and another Oblivion gate behind us, we carried on to Anvil.


	36. High Society

The sea-side city of Anvil sprawled before us as Caroline and I crested the last hill on the Gold road, the red rooftops within the walled city glowing and the Abecean beyond glittering in the low afternoon sun.

Caroline was in the lead on Ebony, and directed us away from the main road, toward the left of the citadel. We were to make straight for the castle. My hope was that we could prepare ourselves swiftly, and meet with Countess Umbranox for supper, provided that she was available for an audience on short notice. Otherwise, we would spend the night in the castle, and take breakfast with her, where I would tell her about the Oblivion gate we had just closed, and offer to close any others concerning her, in exchange for a commitment that a portion of her soldiers to be sent at once to Bruma.

I was certain she would be eager to assist. I had known Countess Millona Umbranox since I was a young child, and had for a time called her aunt Milly, at her request. She had been on friendly terms with my mother, and I had happy memories of taking holidays in the pleasant city, several times a year, before the Count had disappeared. Count and Countess Umbranox had been kind and happy, and patient of me, and more inclined to allow me to roam with a steward in tow than keep me under permanent and watchful eye. My mother, with her desires to remain in the Countess' favour, had always allowed such expeditions.

Nobody knew what had happened to the Count, ten years earlier. One day he had been there, presiding over his region and, for all anyone knew, happy in his relationship with his wife, and the next, he had vanished.

I remembered when the news had reached us in Skingrad; I had been eight at the time. My mother was convinced that he had been murdered, and had used the report to try and further her own position; offering grievances and counsel to the Countess, being a widower herself. But the Countess wouldn't have it; insisting that her husband was alive. Word had it that to this day she behaved as though the Count being missing wasn't such a great deal, and acted as though he was merely away on business. We had not visited often, after he had disappeared, and soon enough after, I was betrothed and living in the City.

I frowned as I tried to picture the Count as I'd last remembered seeing him, but was unable to recall anything specific about his face or manners. Perhaps it had simply been too long, and I had seen too much since then, to remember him with any degree of detail.

Castle Anvil was a welcome sight, as Caroline and I guided our horses around the wall and caught our first glimpse of the fortress on its island in the bay. It was a much prettier castle than those in Skingrad and Kvatch; far more welcoming, and the architecture was sympathetic to that within the city; all warm grey stone and red roof tiles. Red and black banners bearing the Anvil sigil were hanging either side of the large doorway, and even larger banners trailed down from the front turrets, flapping gently in the sea breeze.

Before long, we had crossed the short bridge leading to the castle and been admitted. A pair of Anvil guards in full regalia showed Caroline and I across the small, tidy courtyard within, while another took our horses and set back off across the bridge, leading them to the Anvil stables. The sun was low enough to cast a pink hue over the bricks within the courtyard and deepen the purples of the peony flowers that had been planted in neat, ordered clusters within.

The Great Hall was empty, as it was too late in the day to address the Countess at court, but I was glad for it. Still dressed in the armour Kvatch had gifted me and the clothing I had trained in that morning and then rushed through Oblivion in, I expected I did not present the pretty picture that the Countess would expect me to.

One of the guards who had escorted us bowed and left, saying they would fetch somebody to attend to us, and shortly after he returned with a young Breton woman wearing an array of green-hued linens, whose smiling face and freely-flowing blonde hair reminded me again that Anvil was more laid-back than the other cities of Cyrodiil. My mother, or Countesses Valga or Caro for that matter, would have fired any female member of their household who wore her hair unbound.

"Greetings, my Lady," she stopped before me and bowed in a way that told me she was a servant, not a steward. "I am Beatrice," she introduced, and rose, her pale blue eyes flickering over my general appearance, though her voice betrayed no hint of disapproval. "It is a pleasure to welcome you to Castle Anvil."

"Hello," I smiled automatically, dimly wishing that somebody who would have remembered my visits as a child had met us, instead. But, it did not truly matter; Beatrice seemed pleasant enough. "I am happy to be welcomed," I added.

Beatrice seemed satisfied, and carried on. "The Countess is currently indisposed, however she is being made aware of your arrival at this moment, and an apartment has been made available for your visit," she indicated that we follow her further into the Great Hall, toward the throne. I knew from my childhood visits that we were being lead to the staircase behind it, which lead up to the private rooms within the castle.

"Wonderful," I replied warmly, following. Caroline was a step behind me.

It was quite interesting, I thought as we walked, how I was received in Anvil, compared to the reception we had received at Skingrad. But then, I reasoned to myself, Countess Umbranox was far more sociable than Count Hassildor, so was naturally better prepared to take guests.

The room Beatrice lead Caroline and I to was gorgeous. I marvelled at the lines of the arched, vaulted ceiling, at the centre of which hung a chandelier that, despite being made of iron and chains, managed to look elegant amongst the stonework.

White lace curtains lined the many tall windows, all of which were drawn back to frame a variety of vistas. I noted that the sun had set, and the sea was indigo, drifting underneath a darkening sky, which was slashed with pink clouds. One of the openings lead to a small, neat balcony, on which a table and a few chairs sat. In the middle of the room was a finely-made wooden bed, which was both framed by and covered in bed dressings made again of white lace, as seemed to be the theme of the room. The dresser and wardrobe were made of the same wood as the bed, and to my relief, I noticed a large white bathtub through an open adjoining doorway. It would be wonderful to have a proper bath.

"It is beautiful," I told Beatrice, seeing no reason to hide my pleasure in the room. I turned to the serving girl. "Please thank Countess Umbranox for her gracious hospitality."

Beatrice bowed a little, the smile on her lips betraying an amused tilt. "Only the finest will do, for the Hero of Kvatch," she told me.

For the first time since I had been called by that name, I didn't flush.

Caroline came to a halt beside me; she had been pacing the room since we had entered, checking the security, I supposed, and her appearance made me remember what we were doing in Anvil.

"Do you know when the Countess might be available for private audience?" I asked Beatrice. "Supper, if that would suit? I have an important matter to discuss with her."

Beatrice inclined her head. "I am sorry, Lady Passero, but the Countess has been caught up in a private matter all afternoon, and is hosting a dinner party tonight. And as you will be well aware, the Countess' parties do tend to carry on late into the night," Beatrice didn't wait for confirmation, and continued on. "Of course, a place is being set for you, as we speak, and the Countess will doubtlessly look forward to speaking with you forthwith," she gave me a hopeful smile. "You are to be seated quite close to her. Perhaps at dinner, you will find a moment to talk of your important matter?"

"Perhaps," I echoed and made sure I didn't sigh, as I doubted such a time would come to discuss so serious a matter, during a party.

Caroline spoke up finally; the first words she'd said since we'd entered the castle. "Would you have somebody bring me a guest list, of all the names of those attending tonight's party?" she asked.

Caroline's tone had been friendly enough, but I saw the confusion on Beatrice's face when she nodded. "As you wish. Is there anything else that you should need?"

After Caroline had arranged water be brought for the bath and food for the table, Beatrice left us to the apartment, and I moved outside, leaning on the balcony and looking out over the bay. The port, to my right, was still a hive of activity, with several ships in dock, and tiny lights dancing around the many jetties, reflected and twinkling in the dark water. Beyond port, the city was lit up even brighter; the wall itself creating a segment of darkness between the two brighter regions.

The thought that had struck me when we'd arrived in Skingrad came again, and I wondered how the cities could be so unaffected by the rise of the Oblivion gates? Perhaps it was simply that the Counts and Countesses had been keeping on top of the threat to their counties, as I had requested they do at the Elder Council meeting, so their people would be able to continue about their business as though there was still an Emperor on the throne and no imminent risk of being invaded by Mehrunes Dagon.

Shuddering, as my pleasure in being in Anvil was marred by these thoughts, I cast my eyes away from the busy port and city and instead, turned my eyes down to my armour, to begin unfastening the many buckles along the sides so I could shimmy out of it. If the Countess was hosting a party, and I was to attend, I needed to begin preparing.

Celebrations with the citizens of Kvatch was an entirely different matter to a dinner party with a Countess, regardless of how relaxed affairs were in Anvil. The sun had only recently set, which meant that it wasn't very late into the evening yet, and traditionally, dinner parties began at the eighth hour. This meant I had a mere two hours, if I was lucky, to be ready.

Caroline appeared by my side, to help with the buckles on my armour. I turned my eyes up to her, and saw that she was wearing a thoughtful expression, as though her mind was elsewhere, while her hands worked.

"What are you thinking?" I asked her gently.

Her grey eyes met mine, and she hesitated before admitting, "Nothing so much," she turned her eyes back to her work. "I am concerned that our business is being hindered by another social occasion, but I understand the necessity, and am otherwise enjoying the sea air," she deftly unfastened the buckles along one of my shoulders, before pausing and asking, "Are _you_ all right, my Lady?"

I sighed, then admitted, "I don't know."

Fresh thoughts of Dagon's desire to invade and conquer, brought on by the apparent unpreparedness of Skingrad and Anvil to the war we were fighting, clouded my mind. I let my hands fall from the armour, since Caroline had it under control, and worked on unlacing the arm bracers instead. "I didn't anticipate a dinner party," I agreed with her. "But..." I tried to find words for what I was feeling. "Look at this," I nodded back to the busy port and city. "Do the people of Anvil look greatly affected by what is going on around Cyrodiil; the whole of Tamriel?" I asked her.

"Try not to despair," Caroline had finished unbuckling the armour, and asked me to raise my arms, which I did, and she replied as she lifted the silvery chainmail up and over my head. "It is simply the way of things," she laid the armour down carefully on the table behind us, then stepped up next to me, resting her arms on the edge of the balcony. "People don't like to think about war on their doorsteps, so they stubbornly carry on, as though it were not happening."

I turned to look at her, but she was looking down at the Abecean sea now, as it grew ever darker in the failing light.

I shook my head. "But Anvil could fall at any moment, just as Kvatch did and Bruma may."

"Yes," Caroline frowned a little, turning to face me. "Just as you or I could die tomorrow, or the day after. Does that mean we, and they," she nodded toward the city, "can't live today?"

"That isn't _quite_ what I meant."

"I know, my Lady," her frown turned into a smile, and again I wondered at how she could be so bright. "But, who are we to judge how prepared Anvil is, at a glance? Perhaps you could ask the Countess, if you have an opportunity tonight, and that might lead you to discuss our reason for being here?" she pointed out.

Her reply, and our discussion, was cut short, I felt, as the door to our room opened, and a few servants entered with pails of steaming water. Caroline left to oversee the bath with them, and I turned back to look over Anvil, and determined that I would heed Caroline's words. Who knew what Countess Umbranox had in place with regards to the Oblivion gates? And who knew what opportunities the dinner party would offer to further our quest? Perhaps the occasion wouldn't be a complete waste of time. As my despondency waned, I resolved to find a way – any way – to discuss the retrieval of soldiers for Bruma with the Countess over the course of the night.

After a moment longer of watching the shifting scenery, as the sky darkened and the stars brightened, Caroline called me in and we began preparing for the Countess' dinner party.

–

It was good to be fresh and clean. The night was calm and the sea breeze brushed the skirts of my dress against my legs as we hurried down the romantically-lit hallways of Castle Anvil, to the dining hall.

For the first time since the Septim murders and my escape from the White-Gold Tower, I felt closer to the noble girl I had once been, and I found the notion a bizarre one. I wasn't certain whether to be pleased or concerned, and settled on switching between the two feelings. I had glanced over the list that Caroline had arranged with Beatrice to have delivered, and had recognised the majority of the names, by name only, which did not reassure me. As my information about them was based on hearsay and lessons, rather than acquaintance, so would their information be about me.

And who would the other guests be expecting to enter the room, when they saw me? Lady Passero, the girl who should have by now been a Septim? Or the Hero of Kvatch, who battled daedra? Certainly, I looked the part of the former, in a flowing, elegant cream dress, with its fitted overdress in shades of russet and edged in gold, with my hair neatly arranged into an intricate, woven braid around my head.

 _You are both Lady Passero and the Hero of Kvatch,_ I told myself, in an attempt to rally my courage. _Whether they believe it to be true or not._

 _And what does their opinion truly matter_ , I added? The approval of those in the room, which would have at one time been of the utmost priority to me, was barely relevant under the circumstances. _You are here for one reason only; to secure allies for Bruma._

I smoothed my hands down beside me and raised my head, slowing my pace as we entered the dining hall, and were announced. I mentally checked myself, ensuring that I maintained a neutral expression, for the moment at least. The eyes of the many turned to regard me.

A quick glance around the room told me that the Countess had not arrived to her party, yet, and I was relieved. I had been worried that we would be late. I ignored the expressions of the Countess' guests, ranging from the bored bordering on disdainful, to the insanely curious.

Caroline fell into step behind me, and I knew that unless anything was awry at the party, we wouldn't be able to converse for the rest of the night; not about anything of any importance, at least.

Until the Countess arrived, I would have to mingle, I reminded myself, as a waiter drifted toward me and I accepted a glass of sparkling white wine, which was a specialty of the coastal region. No sooner had I accepted the glass and turned from the waiter, I had found my way blocked by an eager-looking noblewoman wearing mustard-coloured velvets, who trilled a hello to me in a voice lower than I expected.

Thus set the tone for the start of the evening; polite but somewhat pointless conversation with people I knew by reputation only. After pleasantries, I would lead into discussing the rise of the Oblivion gates, or the devastation in Kvatch, in an attempt to gauge the aristocracy's concern on the matter. Unfortunately, such a topic gave whoever I was talking to an excuse to ask for my account of the Emperor's murder, or to discuss the validity of an illegitimate heir's claim to the throne. The necessity of relighting the dragonfires appeared to be lost on them; at least, the ones I conversed with; who were plainly more interested in gossip for their own gain.

Somewhat frustrated after thirty minutes of negotiating my way delicately around matters I didn't wish to discuss, I was relieved when the Countess was announced, and as one, the room turned to the entry and bowed.

When it was acceptable to raise my head, I did, and I made sure to wear a smile as my eyes sought Countess Umbranox's. It was difficult not to frown, when I took in the state of her.

She looked regal enough; wearing a beautiful blue dress, edged in both gold and silver. But she was pale; her face emotionless, and she refused to meet anybody's eye as she stood in the entrance to the dining hall. I crossed my brows, wondering what was keeping her from entering. If she was unwell, she could have quite acceptably cancelled the event.

The reason for her pallor was made evident as she was joined by a man, who looked vaguely familiar to me, though I couldn't immediately place him. He offered her his arm, and was promptly announced.

"And, my Lord and Ladies, presenting Count Corvus Umbranox, returned just this evening from the Imperial City."

_What?_

There were gasps and exclamations of surprise, and it sounded as though one woman over the other side of the room might have fainted. I kept check of my response, though I couldn't help but stare at the Count; his thin face expressionless as he lead the Countess into the room, toward the dining table. He was tanned; more tanned than Imperials within the aristocracy usually allowed themselves to become, but otherwise presented the stature and solemnity expected from a Count of Cyrodiil.

As they stepped aside, I caught a glimpse of a figure in the doorway who had been standing behind them, who was wearing dark armour and whose face was covered entirely by am ominous grey cowl. While instinctively knowing that they could not be Mythic Dawn, a pang of distrust swept over me, and I caught Caroline's arm, turning to her to point out the suspicious body. But the moment I had turned, my concern immediately dissipated, and I found myself once again transfixed by the Count and Countess, together finally, after so long, stepping up to the Countess' place at the dining table.

Countess Umbranox finally cast her eyes around the room, as she drew to a halt, and let her hand fall from her husband's arm. In the light cast by the chandeliers and sconces within the room, I noticed that both hers, and her husband's, hair was peppered with grey at the temples.

"Welcome, friends," she said, in a strained voice. "You will have to forgive me for my lateness in arriving; as you can see," she indicated the Count, his hands folded in front of him, "it has been a rather momentous evening."

Countess Umbranox's tone eased, marginally, as she moved on to discuss the reason for calling so many of her honoured friends to the castle that night; in support of some charity or other that she had been patroness of for several years, but I doubted many in the room were paying attention. She spoke of donation points and indicated her stewards around the room, but all focus, all anybody wanted to hear about, was how the Count had finally returned home, and where he had been, these past ten years. Information which all in the room knew wouldn't be freely discussed.

After a few more brief words, the Countess bade everybody to find their places and sit, before the dinner prepared grew any colder. Caroline touched my arm, to indicate that we move toward my place.

I was seated, as Beatrice had promised, close to the Countess. She sat at the head of the table, and after she was settled, the Count left her side to sit at the other end, far away from us. I watched the Countess as her eyes trailed after her husband, but her face betrayed no hint of wonder, or even happiness, at his return, so trained was her expression.

A waiter hurried forward to seat me, before Caroline was able to, and I found myself next to a pompous-looking man wearing burgundy and black, and a rather beautiful Altmer woman, who I recalled was the head of the Anvil Mage's Guild.

She paid me no mind, smiling and nodding a brief hello, as she turned to the man the other side of her and began discussing her support of the Arch-Mage's latest decree. I reasoned that they had been discussing the same prior to the Count and Countess' startling arrival, to be able to so easily fall back into the middle of a conversation.

I inwardly sighed, looking across the table and down, to where the Countess was sat. If I had only been placed where the man next to me was, I would be seated next to her. Perhaps it would be close enough? After all, what did it matter if others heard of my request to the Countess? It may encourage her to pledge support, for fear of being judged by them.

While I didn't _really_ want to guilt any of the Counts or Countesses into helping Bruma, ultimately I would use whatever I needed to, to ensure their support.

The man sitting next to me caught my eye as I smiled at where my thoughts had lead me, and shifted my focus from the Countess to him, trying to place him. He was in his thirties, and a rather thin, pale-looking Imperial man; clean-shaven with high cheekbones and hazel-coloured eyes that were a little too close together for him to be called traditionally handsome, I thought. He extended his hand to me, somewhat awkwardly, since we were already seated. "Lord Velwyn Benirus, at your service, my Lady," he introduced himself.

 _Ah_ , I remembered his name, though I had never met the man. I made sure to retain my cordial smile, and extended my hand to his, as he seemed intent on greeting me as though we were standing. He placed a small kiss on my hand, then released me.

"Lord Benirus, it is a pleasure to meet you," I greeted with a small incline of my head as I used his title, as I was required to do for our introduction, but not after if I didn't wish it. While he was noble, the Passero's were higher than the Benirus' within the aristocracy. He had inherited his estranged grandfather's title, and manor house, though he had been borne of his noble mother's union with a common man. I remembered, from the information I had stored about the noble families in Cyrodiil, that he had been attempting to sell the house, but not his title, for many years; a venture I had always considered to be a little odd, which is possibly why I had remembered it so easily. Nobles were usually keen on both retaining what land they had, and pursuing more.

"Have you had any recent success in your endeavour to sell Benirus Manor?" I asked him directly, keen to focus on a topic that wouldn't venture near my escape from the White-Gold Tower and all that had occurred that fateful day.

My enquiry was well met, and Velwyn took leave to launch into a long, sigh-filled diatribe about the manor house, all but cursing the bricks and mortar it was made of. An appetiser of fresh oysters was set down in front of us while he spoke, and I took the opportunity to eat while he did, nodding and widening my eyes at his tale at what I hoped was appropriate moments, though I was barely focussed on what he was saying.

 _Is this what life was about, once,_ I told myself dryly, observing the high society about me, with eyes newly opened.

He prodded at one of the oysters on the plate before him with a fork, finally, and I caught the word 'haunted' in his lament. As interesting as the prospect of a haunted mansion was, I regretted the topic, suddenly, as it weighed down the discussion between us with years of bitterness from within the man.

Dinner continued, with a second course being served, and my partner in conversation managed to momentarily forget his own state of affairs as we extended outside of Anvil's walls and he enquired about my travels. At his request, I related to him the state of things in Kvatch, a part of me still wishing to impress upon these people that there was a war going on around them, despite being reluctant to talk about what they most wanted to hear.

It was during my recalling of what had become of Count Goldwine's fortress, and the Count himself, that I managed to capture the attention of the Countess, and I easily included my glances and words in her direction. It was clear that she was seeking a conversation diverting enough to distract her from her husband's strange reappearance. As curious as I was on the matter, it was obvious that she wished to discuss anything but that.

"And, I assume the High Chancellor has pledged assistance, regarding the rebuild of Kvatch?" Countess Umbranox asked, when I paused to take up a spoonful of soup.

I doubted that Ocato considered the fate of Kvatch to be the responsibility of the Empire, when it was at war, but stopped myself from replying with a negative. "My belief is that the High Chancellor's attentions are directed toward the Imperial Legion and their deployment around Tamriel, while the war against the Mythic Dawn carries on," I told her, then added, "Though, it has been several weeks since I was in his presence."

"Oh. Yes, I remember," the Countess said. "Your address to the Elder Council," she added vaguely.

It was clear that her mind wasn't truly on our conversation, however her words were formed. It was no wonder, but I yearned to find a way to capture her focus, since the opportunity to speak with her had presented itself so early in the meal.

I inclined my head respectfully, settling on a lead in that I thought might work. "I am gratified to find Anvil in such a state of normality, Countess," I told her. "My bodyguard and I encountered only a single Oblivion gate on our journey through your county."

It worked. Her eyes fixed properly on me, betraying concern. "Good gracious, Sarina," she sounded a little more like the Countess I remembered from childhood. "I shall summon my Captain at once to close it," she motioned for one of her stewards to attend to her, but continued addressing me. "Can you explain where you saw it?"

I shook my head and raised my hand, to give her pause. "That won't be necessary, Countess. I took care of it; the gate is already closed."

The Countess stilled, and both she, and Lord Benirus, regarded me with wide eyes. Velwyn's gaze was more calculating than the Countess', but I kept my focus on her, as I checked myself again, to ensure I was sitting straight and that my expression was level. I did not want to lose the ground that would give me leave to discuss Bruma's plight.

"But, surely," the Countess blinked a little, her eyes flickering over my appearance, "you don't mean _you_ , personally..." she trailed off.

I smiled in what I hoped was a humble way. "I certainly do. And I am happy to be able to be of service to you, as we strive together to keep all of Cyrodiil safe," I told her.

"But Sarina," the Countess sounded slightly more distressed than I had expected she would. "Why ever would you _choose_ to do such a thing, when my guard are fully trained and prepared to act?"

Lord Benirus muttered something about rumours, and I flicked him a glance before returning my attention to Countess Umbranox. "Out of necessity," it was time, I decided, and pressed on. "I confess that my journey to you was in order to offer to close Oblivion gates in your region personally, in exchange for your assistance."

"Cast yourself into Oblivion time and time again to secure _my_ assistance, child?" she asked me, drawing her hand to her mouth. "Wherever did you come upon such a notion?"

Fearing that I had misjudged the Countess' regard for me, particularly since she had referred to me as _child_ , I hurriedly replied in the hope of saving the conversation before I offended her. "I assure you, it was not my choice to be made part of these events, but the prophecies of the late Emperor, as I explained during the Elder Council address," I reminded her.

She waved her hand, "That is not what I meant, Sarina," she said, also hurriedly. "If you require my assistance, you need only ask me for it," she explained, and I caught the hint of reproach in her voice.

I apologised calmly, and went on to tell her that I feared my request asked too much to expect nothing in return, which finally, gratefully, directed the Countess to ask my purpose for being there.

"You may have heard my explaining to Lord Benirus about the Oblivion gate that devastated Kvatch?" I confirmed. The Countess nodded, but said nothing. I drew a long, sighing breath and continued. "Kvatch's destruction occurred after a number of Oblivion gates formed, to together summon what is called a 'Great Gate'. I haven't seen such a gate myself, so I'm not certain of how its creation ensured Kvatch would fall; I only know that it did," I suddenly realised that it may have been prudent of me to ask Martin what exactly had happened, when the Great Gate had been created.

"You require me to pledge assistance to Kvatch?" the Countess asked, as I had hesitated. "We have already accepted a large number of refugees from the city, who have been more than willing to make Anvil their new home."

I shook my head. "I have already pledged a portion of my family's fortune to Kvatch, which should be at this moment allowing rebuilding efforts to get underway, so for the moment, they are taken care of. No, unfortunately Countess, my request is regarding a plan of the Mythic Dawn's to open a Great Gate with the intent of sacking Bruma, which will succeed, should Cyrodiil not, as a whole, respond while there is still time."

"Bruma? What does _Bruma_ have to do with anything?" Velwyn Benirus asked snidely. I noticed the Countess glance at him now, a glint of frustration in her look, so I decided to ignore his question.

"If Bruma falls, so too will the Emperor, who is being kept nearby," I added.

"The heir is _in_ Bruma?" the Countess asked, a little confusion in her question. "Narina is more than capable of ensuring his safety, regardless of what this Mythic Dawn throw at her city."

I shook my head, wondering how the Countess could underestimate the Mythic Dawn's power so; but then, I supposed, she had never directly encountered any of them. "The Emperor is safe at a Blades stronghold, close by to Bruma. But unfortunately, the Mythic Dawn have learned of his location, and decided that his murder is their priority. Their plan to devastate Bruma is with the sole intention of rendering the Emperor virtually defenceless.

"My quest to you, and the other leaders of Cyrodiil, is to gain military support for Bruma, so that as the Mythic Dawn endeavour to open minor Oblivion gates, we are able to close them before they can activate enough to summon the Great Gate," I finally made my point. "And that, Countess Umbranox, is why I considered it necessary that _I_ close the Oblivion gate in your region, when we happened upon it earlier today," I told her, and was relieved to see that I still had her full attention. She didn't look happy; but who would, at such a request? She wasn't denying me, so that was something at least.

"You faced Oblivion again because you wish me to deploy my armies to another county, leaving my own virtually defenceless?" she confirmed.

 _Careful_ , I told myself, as I shook my head again. "I would never ask anyone to leave their people defenceless. I merely ask that in exchange for removing the immediate threat to your people, you might be able to send a number of your soldiers – a number of your own choosing, I might add – to assist the Bruma guard, and ultimately, keep the last Septim, and our hopes, alive."

The Countess sat back a little, as our second courses were removed, and a third was placed down in front of us; grilled fish and steamed leeks. I stared down at my plate, during the pause, letting out a shaky breath as I remembered the sacks of leeks that we had been hidden under when we had left Bruma, before the Dawn had attacked the cart. The thought made me no longer hungry, as a nervousness wound its way into my belly. I realised how presumptuous my actions, and request, were; heightened by my closing the gate prior to addressing the Countess, essentially giving her no true choice in the matter, particularly since I had brought the matter up publicly.

The waiters withdrew and the Countess shook her head at me, returning immediately to our topic of conversation. "Sarina dear, you should know me well enough to know that I cannot possibly deny such an entreaty," she picked up her knife and fork, and began to idly cut the leeks on her plate.

I picked up my knife and fork also, but left my food untouched. "I never assumed you would," I told her. My mouth was dry, as I felt us near her decision.

"I only wish that you had come to me _before_ casting yourself into the realm of Mehrunes Dagon again," her look was concerned, and her tone somewhat scolding, but I came to realise at her next question that the latter wasn't aimed directly at me. "Tell me truthfully, the others aren't making you plunge into Oblivion before they pledge their support, are they?"

I reached for my wine glass to consider my response, not wanting to speak ill of the nobility. "I have met only with Count Hassildor and yourself so far, and he was more relieved with the outcome of my endeavours, than the particulars of it," I worded carefully.

The Countess 'hmphed', and took up a small piece of leek that she had cut. After she had chewed and swallowed, she shook her head. "But of course, _Janus_ would agree to such a scheme," she said somewhat reproachfully. "And how many of his guard did he promise to Bruma, in exchange for you putting your life at risk on his people's behalf?"

I continued lightly. "An invaluable five legions, Countess," I admitted.

Lord Benirus' fork slipped out of his grip. I took a sip of wine, and then turned back up to the Countess, ensuring my face remained calm, though my heart raced.

She was a little paler than she had been during our discussion, but I couldn't tell whether it was out of shock, or anger. "I see," she said, shortly. "How very _noble_ of him."

I decided to ignore the sarcasm in her tone. "It truly was," I smiled, hoping that I hadn't lost her. Clearly, her trying day had put her rather on edge, but there was nothing I could do for _that_. "The Skingrad guard he promised should be assembled in Bruma in a day or two," I carried on, deciding to try and remain professional, and detached, "and every man or woman sent to assist will further our hopes of keeping the Emperor alive long enough to retrieve the Amulet of Kings and relight the dragonfires, to draw these strange times to a close."

The Countess inclined her head slightly in acknowledgement, and resumed eating for a time, so I did the same. Lord Benirus remained pointedly, uncomfortably silent between us, as he chewed his own food.

But, the Countess' silence relieved me, somewhat. It wasn't a 'no' – and regardless of her reactions to what I had told her, I had never assumed during it that she would say no. She was carefully considering the matter, and very likely, I thought, the specific number she would agree to send; whether she would match Count Hassildor's pledge, or exceed it.

"Well, Sarina," the Countess said eventually, sighing and placing her fork carefully down on the edge of her plate. "You have managed to achieve what I didn't think was possible tonight, and capture my thoughts entirely," there was a hint of a smile, though ironic, on her face. "However, what you ask cannot be decided hastily. I must speak to Captain Langley on the matter. I shall send assistance to Bruma, as you request; I shall advise you of the numbers some time tomorrow," she finished.

"Thank you," I replied graciously. "And I assure you, Countess, that I am ready and willing to close any Oblivion gates in your county, if it will free more of your guard to answer Bruma's plea-"

"Thank you, but that won't be necessary," the Countess cut in before I had finished. "I for one remember that you are _not_ a common mercenary."

Feeling that the topic drawing to a close, the Countess asked after Countess Carvain, correctly assuming that I had been with her in Bruma recently, and the air between us eased and lightened significantly.

Sometime during the fifth course, Lord Benirus even gained enough confidence to rejoin our conversation, though I wished at once that he had remained silent. He boldly asked me what I intended to do with my life, now that my prospects in the Imperial City had been brought to such an unfortunate conclusion.

Caroline made a displeased noise behind me; the first I had heard from her in a while, and I knew that she was riling from the impertinence of the man's question. As it was, I had flushed when he had asked.

"I daresay Lady Passero's _prospects_ , as you call them Velwyn, were not entirely dependent on her marrying Ebel Septim," the Countess supplied for me. I was grateful, and cast her a look that I hoped conveyed as much.

"I apologise," he inclined his head to the Countess, though his tone suggested otherwise. "I meant only that Lady Passero might now be mistress of her own destiny, and pursue a union of her own choosing, rather than a match made on her behalf in her infancy."

 _Infancy?_ My cheeks flamed, and I turned away from Lord Benirus, hoping that he would read from the action that I was offended. Carahil, on my right, was still engaged in conversation with her partner, so I couldn't find escape from him there.

"Do you forget, Lord Benirus, that Lady Passero has been instrumental in fighting this war against the Mythic Dawn, these past months?" the Countess replied for me again, and there was no mistaking the warning in her tone, this time. " _Her_ prospects will be secured, given the inclination of the Septims to reward those in their service, should we win this war; unlike other nobles I could mention, who's thoughts regarding Tamriel extend no further than of how it and its people may benefit their own position."

I took up a mouthful of the salad in front of me, chewing automatically and not really tasting it, keeping my eyes on my food and relieved by the Countess' intervention. The embarrassment in the air was thick, almost tangible. I was taken back by Velwyn's presumptuous manner, and wondered if the Countess' ease with me had given him the notion that he could be as familiar with me? I was well aware, as all in the room would be, that he had enquired about my marital status because, as an unmarried noble himself, he would think to recommend himself to me. What further embarrassed me, that none but myself and Caroline would know, was the truth of my prospects, as Velwyn called them; that, should we win this war, the promises Martin and I had made to one another would mean that I would become their next Empress.

While the fear of the title would not keep me from staying by Martin's side, I still could not bare thinking of it; it was too large a thought in light of all we had to overcome before it would become a reality.

Feeling compelled to say _something_ , lest his opinion of me be sealed as nothing but a blushing maiden, I took up my wine glass again and replied stiffly, "I thank you for your concern over my well being. I have, as the Countess mentioned, been more preoccupied with the safety of our people, than my own _prospects_ ," I squared Velwyn with a hard look, now, telling myself that I had to appear bolder than I currently felt. "But, war or no, I would rather keep such matters as those you questioned me about between myself and my future husband."

 _There_ , I noticed with satisfaction, as Velwyn finally looked somewhat sheepish. My reply should have been worded in such a way as to indicate that I wasn't interested in him recommending himself to me, and also leave him wondering if I had already secured another offer or had been speaking speculatively.

"I am inclined to agree with you, Sarina," the Countess said quietly, and I didn't miss the look she cast down the table, at her own husband. A glance then passed between the Countess and I; one of understanding, which made me wonder if the Countess somehow _knew_ about my relationship with Martin.

But that was impossible; none but Jauffre and the Blades knew of our regard for one another.

Weary of the conversation now, I was grateful when the Countess drew Lord Benirus into a discussion with the dinner guest on her other side, and once the sixth course had been cleared, the Count appeared again, behind the Countess' chair. With a somewhat startled look, she wordlessly accepted his arm and rose, as some musicians on the other side of the dining room began playing a soft, lilting melody.

Lord Benirus turned toward me and opened his mouth, wiping his hand on his serviette with the intention of holding it out to me, I thought. Caroline intervened, leaning between us swiftly, and reminding me of a letter I needed to write to the Emperor, which, she also 'reminded' me, I had promised earlier to sit down to directly after dinner.

"Oh, yes of course," I accepted her ruse hurriedly and gratefully, standing and inclining my head slightly to Lord Benirus. "Thank you for your company this evening," I made my excuses. "But I am promised elsewhere."

He lowered his hand and stood, to return my bow. "It has been most enlightening, Lady Passero," he said, now only offering me a short, somewhat strained smile. "Do not let me keep you from the important work you do for the late Emperor's heir," he added.

I threw him a bit of a perplexed glance at his insinuation that Martin wasn't Emperor already. Even though he was yet to be officially coronated by the Elder Council, I didn't see the point in denying him his birthright when he was not simply the only choice, but our only _hope_. But, before I said anything, I reminded myself that I honestly didn't want to remain with this odd man and argue the matter, when his opinion was of no consequence.

With the majority of the dinner party guests now dancing, I cast a rueful glance at the couples as Caroline lead me toward the exit, a part of me longing, once again, for Martin to be here with me. Despite having wanted to leave the party, an overwhelming loneliness engulfed me as I left the warmth and laughter of the dining room, and stepped into the cool, dimmer hallway.

We walked the halls of Castle Anvil in silence. I followed Caroline automatically, with my mind in the mountains, wondering what Martin was doing. I hoped that he didn't have his head buried in the _Xarxes_. Perhaps he was taking supper, in the hall with the Blades, or with Jauffre in his office? Or perhaps he was reading in the library, or in his room, resting his head on his hand, with his fingers wound in his hair, as he tended to do when he was focussed on a book.

Did he think of me, I wondered? Perhaps, at that very moment, he was looking up from his work and staring at nothing, wondering if I thought of him?

I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I was surprised when we reached our apartment and Caroline burst out in frustration the moment she had closed door behind us.

"Of all the insolent wretches in Cyrodiil for you to be seated next to!" Caroline cried.

I startled, looking up to my bodyguard questioningly, and saw the flash of anger in her eyes; her teeth and fists clenched.

"How _dare_ he presume to recommend himself to you?" she meant Lord Benirus, obviously. She continued, not requiring a response from me, shaking her head furiously as she paced across the room and hurriedly closed the windows, then violently wrenched the delicate lace curtains shut. "If it had not been for the Countess, I would have dragged him to his feet and forced him to apologise, _several_ times, my Lady. And to think he was about to ask you to _dance_ with him, after what he said!"

I watched her, frowning. "He embarrassed me, but it was harmlessly enough done," I told her.

" _Harmlessly?!_ " Caroline echoed in exclamation, as she closed another window with a loud thud.

I continued hurriedly. "His interests were, as the Countess pointed out, entirely on what he could gain. So naturally, he finds the idea of my being unattached, as far as he knows, tempting," I said with a grimace.

Caroline stopped her enraged window closing task to stare at me, her shoulders dropping a little as she gave me a sympathetic look, and sighed. "My Lady, you do yourself far too little credit."

I huffed a laugh, as I moved to and sat at the dresser, satisfied that Caroline's rage was diffusing. "I know his kind," I told her, as I began to unpin my hair. "I assure you, all that was on _that_ man's mind was the wealth of the Passero estate."

Caroline was standing behind me in a moment, and helped unpin the extravagant braid. "If you insist, my Lady," she said quietly, though I could tell from her tone that she didn't agree with me.

"Anyway," I flickered her a glance and a smile, in the mirror. "He doesn't matter. We have almost gained what we came all this way for, and if I read the Countess' response properly, I daresay she will pledge an even greater number of soldiers than Count Hassildor did."

The change in topic seemed to banish the last of Caroline's anger toward Lord Benirus, and she smiled back at me in the mirror. "You spoke well, my Lady. That was a very difficult conversation, and could have been taken the wrong way many, many times," she widened her eyes in emphasis, though they were trained on my hair, as she hurriedly continued unpinning. The slight weight on my head lessened, as the curls sprang loose, and I felt better, and lighter, for it.

"Yes," I agreed, letting my hands fall to my lap; Caroline had my hair under control. "I am certain that any other Count or Countess would have been offended," I turned my head a little, as Caroline tilted my head slightly forward, to reach the pins at the back of my neck. "But Countess Umbranox..." I considered.

"She did seem rather defensive of you," Caroline spoke up with approval, during my hesitance.

I agreed, as Caroline finished unpinning, and motioned that I pass her the brush on the dresser.

I did so, and she began to run it through my hair, smoothing it down. I felt myself relaxing, and smiled. "I used to love visiting Anvil. She was very kind to me, when I came here as a child."

"There are no doubts in my mind that she was, and still is, quite fond of you," Caroline put forward. "And why would she not be?" she cast me a smile in the mirror again.

I rolled my eyes at her in reply, and she looked back down to my hair, laughing to herself a little, though certainly not at my expense. Though she didn't see it, I smiled at her, ever grateful for her camaraderie, which banished the loneliness that had swept through me earlier.

"So, tomorrow," Caroline shifted topic, "Assuming that the Countess doesn't have you wait all day, should we ride out for Chorrol directly? Or wait another night and set off the following morning?"

I inwardly winced; we would have to backtrack a little, to go to Chorrol, but there was nothing to be done for it, since we had already been to Skingrad and Kvatch. If we had stuck to our original plan of applying to Anvil for assistance first, a visit to Countess Valga would not have seemed so out of the way. I wondered then, if Countess Umbranox sent more than five legions to Bruma, whether it would be worth foregoing Chorrol entirely and making straight for the Imperial City, to see what could be done about retrieving a portion of the Legion?

No, I decided swiftly. Countess Valga would assist Bruma, of that I was certain; she had been very agreeable at our prior audience. As for the City, there was no guarantee that Ocato would be able to retrieve any of the Imperial Legion in time to assist us. We had to go where we could be most certain of obtaining troops, regardless of the winding path we would be required to take.

"I suppose it will depend on what time the Countess calls for me," I answered Caroline finally. "If she is too late in speaking with her Captain," I yawned a little, "we might as well spend another night here, and recover fully from our exertions thus far," I said, as Caroline put the brush down and I stood, glancing at the bed.

"As you like, my Lady. Now, let's get you out of that dress, and into something more comfortable to sleep in."

I hadn't realised how tired I was until I had looked at the bed, so I just nodded, wearily.

Soon enough, I settled gratefully into bed, and fatigue mercifully sent me into a deep enough sleep that not even Mankar Camoran could find me in my dreams.


	37. Exposition and Etiquette

The Countess hadn't arrived at her decision the day after the dinner party, but Caroline and I agreed to wait until she had made it, as guests of Castle Anvil.

After spending two days in Anvil as the Countess, Count and the Captain of their guard determined how many soldiers they could forward to Bruma, I felt more refreshed and well-rested than I had felt in a while, but was desperate to be on our way again.

Caroline and I had ventured into Anvil several times during our stay, to sell some of the items she had collected in Oblivion that we didn't need, and to purchase a few pieces of armour to add to my ensemble. While we had both been frustrated by the delay, a part of me was grateful for it. Anvil was beautiful, the Countess was courteous; more like the aunt Milly that I remembered from childhood; and the time wasn't entirely wasted. In the mornings, Caroline trained me, and as she had promised in Kvatch, I was finally allowed to use a sword during our sessions. I wrote and arranged a courier for another letter to Martin, and though there was little to tell him since we had not yet obtained a final commitment from the Countess, the letter was longer than the others I had written him. I took even more care with my words, in an attempt to detangle the web of confusion I felt that I had constructed in my previous letters to him.

There were no shortage of visitors to the apartment. The majority of the guests who had been at the Countess' dinner party called on me during our stay, including a bashful, uncomfortable-looking Lord Benirus, whose swift, uncertain glances at a glaring Caroline and then the door made me wonder why he had even come. Caroline insisted that it had been because he wanted to try to sell me his family's manor house, ghost and all.

On the third night of our stay, at dinner, the Countess finally gave us what we had waited for, and it was entirely worth it. She promised half of her entire guard to journey to Bruma; a staggering twenty legions. I could not express thanks enough to her. Even Caroline, who usually left talk amongst nobles between nobles, broke her silence to offer her gratitude.

Such a number _did_ warrant a warning to be given to Countess Carvain and Captain Burd, to ensure they could prepare for such an arrival. So, after we had retired to the apartment for the night, I penned a quick note and called for one of the stewards to fetch a courier for it immediately. Afterwards, Caroline and I arranged our travel belongings for an immediate departure the following morning.

The days following our departure from Anvil blurred somewhat. When Caroline and I weren't riding along the main roads of Cyrodiil, we were ploughing through Oblivion, or preparing for another audience.

Closure of an Oblivion gate in Chorrol secured Bruma another three legions of soldiers. I had been grateful with whatever the Countess could spare, and we had pushed on to the Imperial City.

Unfortunately, the status and availability of the Imperial Legion was as I had anticipated it would be, and we secured no promise of assistance. Ocato had been frustratingly rigid on the matter of recalling any of the Legion at our meeting. He had seemed extremely strained, and I had wondered if it was owing to the high demands of the role that had been thrust upon him in the absence of a Septim on the throne, or if it was more personal, and he _was_ offended by the manner in which I had left his care those weeks prior. Whether what troubled him was personal or not, he insisted that the removal of the Legion from any of Tamriel's provinces would not only cause irreversible offence to said regions, but also put more lives at risk than it might save.

As though my failure to secure any of the Imperial Legion for Bruma's armies was an omen, our journey south to Bravil was just as, if not more, frustrating than our audience with the High Chancellor.

Count Terentius had wanted to discuss the request for allies several times, in long, tedious audiences with various members of his court, who indulged him and his arrogance in a manner which sickened me. Only our need, and a hope that if I appeased his ego, we would secure a large number of soldiers, kept me compliant and polite. I had known of the Count's arrogance, from my lessons about the aristocracy while I'd lived at the White-Gold Tower, but having never talked with the man before, I was quite shocked with just how disagreeable I found him to be.

Caroline bore the time in Bravil as expected. In private, she would curse and grind her teeth in anger at the pointless delays and the Count and his loathsome son's manners, but as ever, she maintained her duty with all the polite servitude she had always exhibited in public.

We entered into our fourth day in Bravil. It passed slowly and with no word from the Count regarding his decision. Rather than discuss our business with him and try impress our urgency on him yet again, Caroline and I had spent the entire day training in the courtyard. This was much to the amusement of the lecherous Gellius Terentius, the Count's son, who for at least an hour took it upon himself to lean lazily against the castle wall with a bottle of drink in his hand, and ogle Caroline and I as though we were performing for him. We had ignored him while he had stood there, but it was impossible to not be offended by his actions.

As a result of this insult, on top of the delay, Caroline's rage was at tipping point by the time we were preparing for another formal dinner, later that evening.

"How is it that we haven't been given an answer yet?" Caroline thundered from our guest room, raking a comb through my hair and then twisting it into a tight, homely bun at the back of my neck. "Do the words 'pressing urgency' and 'fate of all Tamriel', or 'thousands of civilian deaths' mean nothing to him?"

I glanced up at her in the mirror, raising an eyebrow at the hairstyle. It had not been lost on me how she had been deliberately dressing me, while we had been in Bravil, in a manner that neither suited nor favoured me. I wished that she wouldn't, and there was only one reason that would make her do such a thing. But if she sought to make me undesirable to the men amongst the Count's courtiers, she was forgetting that if any thought to pursue me, they would be seeking my fortune, and it wouldn't matter to them if I looked like myself or the back side of a horse.

But, as I had always done, I simply needed to leave Caroline to her ministrations, and get over myself.

"You know what the Count is like," I replied dryly to Caroline, as she finished dressing my hair with a startlingly white coif, which was offset by a fillet made from woven red ribbons. The white coif covered all of my hair and the crown of ribbon secured the headpiece in place.

I gave her a look at this final addition; the overall effect was too prim, too demure; but she pretended that she hadn't noticed me.

"I know that the Count is in love with talking," Caroline muttered, standing back a little to assess what she'd done. "There, very proper," she said, motioning for me to rise. I supposed this meant _she_ was at least satisfied.

We walked to the bed where a long, straight, red gown was laid out for me. She helped me into it then adjusted the ribbons at the sides, tight enough so that the dress wouldn't slip, but not tight enough to fit or flatter my figure.

She continued on her tirade while she adjusted the dress; muttering and cursing the Count's lack of empathy for a plight that didn't directly effect him, and pointing out that, if the immediate risk the Dawn posed were to Bravil and not Bruma, he would be demanding that all of Tamriel come to his assistance.

I glanced down at the boring dress and sighed, coming to a decision, weary of both the Count's procrastination, and Caroline's ranting. "You are right, Caroline," I told her. "He has kept us waiting long enough. We will leave tomorrow morning, whether the Count has given us his answer or not."

Caroline shook her head, the frustration still evident as ever. "But if he has not, all of this time spent in Bravil will have been in vain."

"If we say we will remain at the castle until the Count has made his decision, he may never make one," I pressed on quickly. "You know that it's true. I, and my request, are too interesting for him to let go of so easily," I added, squaring her with an unimpressed look, "no matter how I am dressed."

Caroline turned away immediately; confirming my assumption that she was dressing me down, without her needing to say it. To cover the action, she located and put on her boots. "Perhaps tonight you could press him, just a _little_ more? We may still have to venture out into the wilds, close an Oblivion gate, and return again, before we can be on our way to Leyawiin."

I remembered, and closed my eyes as I wondered how many more days we might have to spend in county Bravil. "I will try," I told her, though both of us knew that attempting to force anything out of the snooty man would likely make him all the more obstinate.

Caroline tried to smile, though she was still clearly very frustrated when she faced me again, and said that we should head to dinner. As we left the room, she whispered to me, "Promise me, my Lady, that when you are Empress, you will have him replaced. I will consider it a personal favour."

I flashed her a shocked look as a nervous laugh escaped me. "Caroline!"

She smiled properly now, enjoying her own joke it seemed, as she closed the door behind us and motioned that we carry on. Now that we were in a more public area, she chose not to reply, or add to her startling notion, though I knew that she couldn't be serious.

As we walked the grey stone hallways of Castle Bravil and made our way to the dining hall, I noticed that the laughter, despite being out of surprise, had made me feel a little more positive about the obstacles ahead of us, and a little less disappointed about the possibility that we would be leaving Bravil on the morrow, with no additional allies secured for Bruma. We had gained so many already, thanks to the generosity of Skingrad, Anvil and Chorrol, that I reasoned that it wouldn't matter if we left Bravil with nothing, as long as we could secure soldiers in both Leyawiin and Cheydinhal.

Once in the dining hall, I was placed, as I had been during all other meals, to the right of the Count. I had realised, after our first meal, that he hadn't put me beside him to talk with me, but rather _at_ me.

The Count held his hand out to indicate me, more than greet me, as I curtsied the appropriate greeting to him. "Ah, Sarina, you join us at last," he addressed, which gave me leave to rise and take my seat.

"I apologise for my lateness, Count Terentius," I said evenly, as Caroline shifted my chair in underneath me when I sat. I could feel my frustration rising already at the necessity to be civil, let alone obsequious to him. We had not arrived late; the Count merely thought that any who arrived after him, despite the hour, was late.

Glazed as his expression was, the Count's son, Gellius, chose to notice our arrival and welcome me in his own way. "You look well enough, Sarina," he smirked from his place opposite me, on his father's left. "Though I _did_ rather more enjoy the sight of your little play-fight today with your handmaiden, as though you were common guards."

It had been meant as a slight, but I treated it as a compliment, to keep matters polite, while I silently wished for him to be handed a sword and _play-fight_ with Caroline at that instant. "I am pleased that you were so interested in my efforts, Gellius," I nodded my head to him cordially. "Caroline and I labour to be of what use we can be to the realm, and to the Emperor."

"And very nobly done," the Count said haughtily, almost automatically, as though he hadn't really heard what I had said. "I have been an ardent supporter of this Septim lad -" it took all my effort to keep my expression neutral - "but I only wish that he would hurry up and bring himself to the Imperial City, before the High Chancellor convinces the rest of the Council to appoint _him_ Emperor," he added, with some frustration.

The topic was a favourite of the Count's, and I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes. I had attempted, once, to assure him that Ocato entertained no such notion, having recently met with him personally, and that his manner had indicated to me that he would rather be done with the temporary position altogether. It had resulted in a maddening discussion about how the Count's instincts were always proven correct on matters concerning the Council, while thinly-veiled insults were sent my way, insisting that I was blinded by a woman's kindness if I had been unable to see the High Chancellor's aspirations for myself.

I was not going to make the mistake of trying to reason with Count Terentius again.

Deciding not to provoke the matter by mentioning the necessity of the Amulet of Kings, or continuing the conversation down the path the Count wanted to lead it by agreeing with him, I hesitated in my reply, as the first course of our dinner arrived. As it was only myself, the Count, and his son at dinner tonight, I would have nobody to turn to if I wanted to exclude myself from his discussion, so I had to try and keep some measure of control over the turns it took, if I could.

"It is all of Tamriel's wish that the Emperor's position be solemnised," I said finally, as the servants withdrew. "But while his life is under such a threat from the Mythic Dawn, the Blades are charged with keeping him hidden from view."

"Oh, yes, we're all well aware of the Blades part in all of this," the Count dismissed. "Take a care not to fret, Sarina," he waggled a finger at me, and I stared at it, wondering how he'd taken my words as a sign of fretting. "It does not become you, or any young lady, I find."

I all but sighed my apology, and the conversation moved on to what the Count and Gellius considered to be appropriate behaviour for a high-born woman to present, and when it might be acceptable to fret.

Having no opportunity to dissuade them from this topic, I resorted to playing my part, and merely nodded and agreed with them when it seemed like I should. I yearned for the dinner to be over, and for morning to come, so we could leave. I could feel Caroline's rage building, from where she stood behind me, and wondered that they had the gall to persist with such misogyny in our company. Had any of their equals been present, they would have put a stop to it. Technically, I could have attempted it, if I had felt like taking the argument upon myself, but I had told myself many times already to be what the Count expected of me and nothing more, for Bruma, and Martin's, sakes. My duty, in this quest for allies, was to appeal to the aristocracy in the way that would yield us the best results. There would be no ground gained attempting to change the opinions of men who thought they knew better, and truly, it did not matter what they thought of me, as long as the Count, in the end, gave me what I had come for.

Eventually, the Count _did_ venture toward the topic of assistance for Bruma, and I began to listen in to the conversation properly again.

I raised my eyes from my meal, and met his. "I thank you for your eager consideration, Count," I was pleased that he had brought it up, so I could make our plans known. "But I am afraid that my time in Bravil has reached it's end. I must continue on my journey around Cyrodiil tomorrow morning, and am expected in Leyawiin tomorrow night," I bent the truth, so I could leave him no possibility of extending our stay even further.

The Count had been taking some of his dinner, but paused and turned his head slowly to regard me. Across from me, Gellius snorted into his tankard.

"You'll fit _right_ in with _that_ frigid lot," Gellius grunted disdainfully, the man's beady little eyes watery from inebriation. "No wonder you're eager to go."

I ignored his muttering, as I had been doing for three out of the four days we had been in Bravil. In hearing him stab at the Count and Countess Caro's dispositions, I was suddenly grateful that Caroline _had_ been dressing me prudishly in this lout's presence, lest _he_ take an interest in me, which would have made it difficult to leave as we chose. My memories from the Tower days, of the Count and his son's relationship, reminded me that the son usually got what he wanted.

I focused instead on the Count, ensuring that my expression was yet again, one of measured politeness.

"I see," the Count seemed a little disgruntled, though obviously some sort of breeding prevented him from being as openly rude as his son. "You must of course do what you are promised to do," he sighed, placing his knife and fork down on the sides of his plate. "But I will be very sorry to see you leave, Sarina," he looked at me _fondly_ , for the first time since I had been I his presence, though I felt the falseness in his manner immediately. "It is not often that we have the privilege of entertaining ladies of any refinement in Castle Bravil."

 _Little wonder,_ my thoughts interjected, in a somewhat Caroline-ish tone.

The Count continued. "And I suppose, if you are determined to quit Bravil tomorrow, I am obliged to give you an answer regarding the request you delivered to me," he sighed.

"That would be most considerate of you, Count," I responded in a measured tone. Perhaps we _wouldn't_ be leaving without securing assistance from Bravil? I dared to hope.

The Count adopted a sombre expression. "Yes. I am nothing, if not considerate. Particularly in light of the grave nature of your request, involving your suggestion of closing Oblivion gates," he waved his hand somewhat dismissively at me.

"I was having difficulty in deciding on the appropriate number of my guard to send to assist my dear friend Narina," he shook his head in pity, and I wished that Countess Carvain had been there, to snap at him. "But I am now decided," he announced, sitting back and raising his chin, as though he was about to proclaim something worthy and great to the lands.

"I think it only fair and reasonable that I commit resources on a per-gate basis. Should you close a gate in my region, Sarina, I shall commit you a legion of my force. Close two, and you shall secure two legions, and so on and so forth," he moved his hand in a rolling motion, then smiled, a look of pondering crossing his face. "You would have to close a great many gates to secure the entire Bravil Guard, but should you manage it, I will stand by my word, of course."

I heard Caroline draw a hiss of a breath behind me, and I held my own breath to keep from gasping, or cursing, at the Count. His proposal was a _disaster._ We had little enough time as it was, and the Count expected Caroline and I to close multiple gates, for ten soldiers apiece? He _had_ to be joking; security of such a small number was _not_ worth our efforts.

I blinked, quickly, as I took in the decision, making every effort to keep my own chin raised, though for the moment I couldn't meet the Count's eyes. I nodded, wondering if there was any room for negotiation.

Had any of the other Counts or Countesses proposed such an outrageous, time-consuming idea, I would have attempted to change their mind, but four days in Bravil had taught me enough about Count Terentius to know that to dispute his decision would result in potentially days of further delays, and likely no different a conclusion.

"See, father? She is shocked into silence by your generosity," Gellius spoke up. "None of the other Counts or Countesses have thought of it in the way you have."

I flashed him a hard glance at his words, but it had no effect on him. He had clearly known what the Count intended to offer us, which only angered me further. If he had come to his decision, why had he failed to tell us of it immediately?

"That certainly seems to be the case," the Count droned, peering at me. "What say you to my scheme, Sarina? Do we have an accord?"

I turned back to face the Count, telling myself to start breathing again. To think of all the time I had wasted, pandering his ego! I had been a fool to think that the Count, whose nature I had known of prior to venturing into Bravil, would be charitable; that he would rise to the cause as the other nobles had; a fool, to believe that I would have an effect on him.

I couldn't bare to be in the dining room a moment longer, and I saw no way to exit gracefully. At this point, I was too shocked and angry to worry about offending the Count.

I placed my cutlery to indicate that I was done with my meal, and rose, dipping my head to the Count, so that I wouldn't have to look at him. "I am pleased for you; that you were able to arrive at a decision you felt you could live with," I told him, a waver in my tone. "As I have made clear to you, I am expected in Leyawiin tomorrow night. However should I find the time to close any Oblivion gates in your region on the morrow, I will send a courier to alert you and collect the promised legions," I told him. Before he could respond, I added. "I am sorry, but you must excuse me. I must prepare for my departure," I turned to leave.

"But – what about dessert?" Gellius called out to me in a whining voice.

I strode from the dining hall with Caroline on my heels, and the call to return didn't come. I heard the Count say something, but couldn't make out the words. I had the snide thought that, given how self-absorbed the Count had been during the majority of our discussions, he had likely just made some excuse for me about women's business and resumed his dinner.

It was that he failed to realise how disrespectful his proposal was; completely, _utterly_ failed to notice; that angered me so much. The moment the dining hall door was closed behind us, I turned to Caroline and hissed, "We leave at once. We'll stay at an Inn outside of Bravil, if we have to."

Caroline nodded but said nothing. Her face was expressionless and set like a stone, but there were spots of red, high on her cheeks, indicating that the level of her fury was extremely high. The sight of her only fuelled my own outrage.

We returned to the apartment we'd been staying in, and while I changed into my armour, Caroline paid a steward to go directly to the stables and ensure the horses were made ready for our immediate departure.

I raked the coif off my head, throwing it down on the bed, trying to console and calm myself by insisting that I be thankful that we had lost _only_ four days here, in the end. A part of me wondered if the Count had dreamed up his offering knowing that I couldn't possibly make great use of it or secure many of his guard, but I reconsidered, remembering his smarmy attitude when he had announced it. He had genuinely thought he was being charitable.

At once, I wished that I had the time to close all of the gates in his region, the moment they appeared, so that I would force him to keep his word, and send his entire guard to Bruma. But of course that was simply impossible.

 _Martin will hear of this,_ I thought furiously as I shook my hair out of the bun and left it loose, then moved to where my weapons and boots were stored. Caroline was there ahead of me, fastening her sword belt, and passed mine to me when I reached her. I buckled it hastily, wondering if I _could_ have Martin depose Count Terantius over this? It wasn't very likely.

I sighed as I shouldered my quiver, realising that it would do no good to mention what had passed to Martin. He would have enough to do once the dragonfires were relit; he didn't need to be immediately cast into the petty squabbles of the nobles.

But _I_ would certainly never forget how little the Count had done to assist us.

A knock at the door roused both Caroline and I from the silence of our thoughts, and we turned to it in unison, then to each other, as though one of us might know who it was that was calling on us at such an hour.

Caroline strode to the door, muttering something about the horses. I frowned, watching her, telling myself that it couldn't possibly be the Count. Regardless of whether he might have noticed the manner in which I exited his dining hall, I doubted that he would see the need to knock anywhere in his own castle.

The door opened inward, and I heard Caroline address the Captain of the Bravil Guard.

"Captain Lerus," Caroline was tight-lipped, and moved back into the room, leaving the door open to admit the woman. "You will have to excuse us; we are preparing to leave."

"I know, I heard," she rushed. The brunette Captain stepped into view, looking somewhat just as frustrated as we did. I glared at the yellow stag of Bravil, emblazoned on her cuirass.

I left Caroline to talk with the Captain, and returned to the bed, where my pack was laid out, to check that I had everything.

"Then you will have also heard that the Count does not mean to assist Bruma," Caroline said pointedly. "We certainly cannot hope to meet his requirements in the time that we have available to us."

"Yes yes, I heard it all," the Captain confirmed, and I wondered how news could have travelled so fast? Perhaps the Captain had been in the dining hall, and I had failed to see her.

"I'm here to attempt to undo the damage he has done," she added.

I turned to her now, shouldering my pack, unable to leave _this_ between Caroline and her. "You would go against the will of your Count, and assist Bruma?" I asked skeptically.

"When it is required in order to meet the will of the Emperor, or for the greater good of the people of Bravil, there are many things I would do," she squared me with a look of determination, and I had the feeling from that look that she had been required to cover for the Count's indiscretions several times in her career.

There was a silence between us as we regarded one another, and I tried to gain a sense of the Captain who I had met only once, in passing, during our stay. She didn't seem to be joking; everything about her stature spoke of steadfastness. Yet here she was, eluding to what amounted within a county to treason.

"What do you propose to do?" Caroline asked cooly.

I shook my head, not wanting to entangle us in what, at best, would end up being a political battle amongst the Castle Bravil inhabitants and their Guard. "No. I am sorry, but there is no time for this. I'm ready," I turned to Caroline at the last, then started for the door.

Caroline was next to me in an instant. As we passed the Captain, the tall woman turned and followed us.

"I will escort you as far as the gates," she told us, falling into step beside us. "Perhaps we can talk on the way."

We said nothing, but as Caroline didn't immediately ask her to leave, I didn't protest.

After a moment of walking the halls of Castle Bravil, the Captain spoke up in a strained, quiet voice. "You must understand, my Lady," she was all but whispering. "The Count – he was once a great man. The Countess -"

She cut her talk short, as we neared a corner in the hallway.

"The Countess softened him, and when she passed, he despaired..." she told me, only resuming talking once it was assured that the walkway we entered was clear.

"I don't see how this is relevant," I hissed, somewhat through clenched teeth. "The Count may have once been a different sort of man, but that does not change who he is _now_ , or what he will or will not do to assist the Empire," I said in a rush.

Caroline put a hand on my arm in warning, as I realised that regardless of what we had endured from the Count, the Captain did not deserve my anger. I checked myself and closed my eyes, taking a deep breath.

"I am sorry," I said to Captain Lerus when I opened my eyes, and motioned that we should continue on. "Please, tell us what you would have us know."

The Captain seemed to understand my outburst; she didn't even seem fazed by it. "It would be best left until we are at the gates now, my Lady."

I nodded, and we continued on, leaving the castle in silence and entering the courtyard. Our boots made little noise as we crossed the cobbles that lead to the small bridge that would take us from the island that the Castle had been built on.

Captain Lerus began talking again, faster now, since we were nearing the place where we would say goodbye. "Please, do not be too hard in your judgement of what has passed. The Count has been spoiled in his idleness. But it has been many years since the Count has taken any particular interest in my soldier's whereabouts," she added, with a grim tilt to the corner of her mouth.

We reached the gate, and I turned to face the Captain, a tiny flicker of hope buffeting against my fury. "You would send a portion of those under your command to Bruma?" I asked outright, since there was not much more time for talk.

The Captain shrugged, and offered me a small smile. "I didn't say that, and you'll here no such words pass my lips," she bowed to me, in farewell.

I smiled now, turning to Caroline in victory. She was also smiling too – though really, it was more of a smirk. When the Captain rose, Caroline held her hand out to the woman.

"Thank you for escorting us this far, Captain," Caroline said in a more cordial voice, as Captain Lerus clasped her hand.

The Captain maintained her smile as she shook Caroline's hand. "It was my honour. Safe travels to you both."

With that, we left Castle Bravil, feeling happier than I had believed would be possible, despite not securing anything official from Captain Lerus. It warmed me to know that even if the Count didn't want to understand what was going on in Cyrodiil, it was clear that his Captain did, and I was confident that she would find some way to send a delegation to Bruma, right under the Count's nose.

My joy doubled at the thought.


	38. Aftermath of Echoes

Our journey to Leyawiin was free of incident. The night we had entered into had been warm and thick with a heavy, eerie fog, dense enough to feel wetness from it on my exposed face and hands. It had felt as though we rode through a dream; only ourselves, and a small segment of road visible to us at any point in time.

But I did not regret our decision to leave Bravil immediately. While the temperature was moderate and the humidity high, I would have rather endured a thunderstorm raining sleet, than to have remained in Count Terentius and his son's presence a moment longer. But the ride in the shrouded, quiet night helped to diffuse my anger, and I resolved to put what had happened behind me; we were free of Bravil, and moving on.

While I would have liked to have stopped somewhere outside of Leyawiin city to rest and prepare before approaching the Caro's domain, the fog made it impossible to tell whether or not we were passing by an Inn that might have been able to accommodate us. Caroline and I had decided to push on, eventually, and we made a slightly faster pace once we were resolved to reach the city.

I could no longer feel anger radiating from her, as had been her state of being for the past four days. Obviously the Captain's allusion had greatly cheered her. I was relieved to know that my friendly, steady companion would soon be back to her old self; Bravil had not benefited her personality, or mine, for that matter.

Greatly calmed by her reversion, I practically slept in the saddle, ever-grateful of Caroline's seemingly boundless energy and dedication to watch over me, so that I didn't have to pay that much attention to our surrounds.

Many hours after departing Bravil, fog still as heavy as when we had left, Caroline and I arrived at the Leyawiin stable yard, called Five Riders.

A weary-looking Khahiit woman exited the stables to meet us as we arrived. I was glad; I had worried that we would have to wake somebody to take care of Ebony and Ilaria. It was still very dark, though by now it must have been early morning.

"You wish to stable horseflesh?" she asked Caroline, without introducing herself, in a voice that sent a chill down my spine.

Caroline dismounted, taking her backpack from where it was tied to Ebony, and nodded to the woman as she passed several Septims into her paw. "Yes, if you have room for them," Caroline flicked me a swift glance, and nodded for me to dismount. I hurriedly did as she bade, then shouldered my own pack.

"There is always room," the stable hand replied in a droll manner, then immediately took Ebony and Ilaria's reigns and began leading them away. "You talk to Cat Face when you collect, and pay him."

I watched the woman leave, wondering at her few words and general disinterest in us, and hoped that the horses would be safe in her care. Surely, her indifference couldn't extend to the horses. But she had been the least chatty stablehand I had ever encountered; usually they were eager to talk.

"Cat Face?" Caroline echoed in an undertone, though the question wasn't directed at the retreating woman. She turned to me, shaking her head as though to dismiss the odd stablehand from her mind. "How would you like to proceed, my Lady?" she asked me, straight to business. "The hour will be on our side, should you wish to enter the city now. The guards won't be able to make our presence known to the Count and Countess until breakfast."

I nodded, tearing my eyes away from the horses and Khajiit woman as they disappeared into the fog. "Yes. Let's go in now," I turned and started for the gate, and exit, to Five Stables, and Caroline walked beside me.

I considered the Caro's as we turned along the roadway that lead from the stables to the main city gate, biting my bottom lip as I considered our options. "I don't think we should approach the castle, looking as we are," I mused aloud to her.

I didn't need to elaborate; Caroline knew as well as I that every detail of our arrival within castle grounds, including the state we were in when we presented ourselves, would be relayed precisely to Countess Caro by her bodyguard. Both Caroline and I were damp from the humid ride, dressed in our armour, and overall, fairly dishevelled. While I had been happy to arrive directly at the other county's castles looking as we were, and preparing once we'd been admitted, the same would not do for Leyawiin and its inhabitants. If I was to gain anything for Bruma here, I had to ensure that the very sight of me didn't offend the prim and proper Caro's.

While Gellius Terentius' remarks about them had been incredibly rude, he was somewhat correct, even if his words had been fuelled by drink and poorly chosen. The Count and Countess believed propriety should be maintained at all times, and there were no exceptions to this expectation. As it was, I doubted that I would win favour with them when I offered to close Oblivion gates, but with nothing else to offer them in exchange for soldiers, I couldn't see any alternative.

The entry gate to Leyawiin city was heavily guarded, considering the hour. Six guards, all wearing the standard white cuirass emblazoned with the Leyawiin shield – a white horse on a green backing – seemed to materialise out of the fog, as we stepped up. Caroline was a step in front of me now, and once I noticed the guards, though I was tired and unkempt, I kept my head held high and my expression neutral, as would be expected of me here.

"What's this? Who approaches Leyawiin at such an hour?" one guard, with a thin face and brown hair, asked in a commanding voice, stepping forward to speak for her company.

Caroline offered her a nod in greeting. "Good morning, Captain. I am Caroline, a Blade in service to the Emperor of Tamriel, and I travel with Lady Passero, the Hero of Kvatch," she made a gesture toward me and I was careful to maintain a mask of calm mildness as the woman – Captain, Caroline had called her - swung her head to regard me, her eyes flickering over me first in assessment, then quickly, recognition.

"Ah," the guard relaxed a little, then addressed me, sweeping down into a bow. "Caelia Draconis, Captain of the Leyawiin Guard, my Lady," she rose, and continued. "You are fortunate, to have arrived a day too late. There was _quite_ a fracas, at the close, and the Countess will be relieved that _you_ at least were spared any embarrassment." she added in a dry tone.

I looked to Caroline, hoping she would be able to explain what the guard was talking about, but she looked as confused as I felt. I turned back to face the guard.

"Was I expected?" I queried carefully.

Captain Draconis crossed her brows. "You travelled to Leyawiin for the Countess' dinner party, didn't you?" she asked me, then looked at Caroline. "Why else would you be here?"

Caroline took control of the situation then. "My Lady travels on behalf of the Emperor, with an entreaty for the Count, or the Countess – whoever might be available to speak with first."

"Ah," the Captain said again, though there was an uneasiness to her voice now, and she shook her head. "I'm afraid that it may be a while before either are prepared to hold court again."

My wish had never been to attend on them in court, but to arrange private audience, and I interjected now, still confused. It felt as though we were conducting two seperate conversations. "Captain," I said clearly. "What has happened? You mentioned a fracas. Are the Count and Countess all right?"

The Captain looked slightly taken aback. "They are perfectly well in body, I assure you," she said hesitantly.

"We are grateful that they are not ill," Caroline said in a measured tone. Then added, with barely a pause, "Will you let us into Leyawiin? Perhaps you might recommend an Inn where Lady Passero might refresh herself?"

I glanced at Caroline, wondering why she didn't want to press the guards for more information about this apparent _fracas._ It could have been the Mythic Dawn causing it, for all we knew.

"All right," Captain Draconis stepped aside, still full of uncertainty. She nodded to one of her accompanying guards to unlock the gates. "I suppose it can't do any harm to let you into the city. Make for the Three Sisters' Inn, if you're after a bed," she told Caroline then, and gave her some directions to the Chapel district, where the Inn was located.

And then we were within Leyawiin's walls, and the gates were being closed and relocked behind us.

"Caroline!" I hissed to her, once we were free of the guards. "Didn't you want to find out more about what happened up at the castle?"

Caroline shook her head as she surveyed our surrounds, though she couldn't have seen much as the fog was thick within the city as well. She answered me in a lowered tone. "Not from the guards," she then looked down to me, and smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, my Lady. If it was a serious matter, the Count would have forbidden anyone access to the city."

I frowned a little as Caroline set off, and I hurried to keep close to her. "But..." I pressed, casting a glance around Leyawiin for myself. The sound of our boots on the cobbles was strangely muted, and the fog made the wattle and daub houses with their steeply-pitched, thatched roofs look insubstantial and ghostly. With a shudder, I turned back to talk to Caroline in a hush."Aren't you curious? Anything could have happened."

"I suppose I am a _little_ ," she admitted, casting me a sideways glance and a smirk. "But we are likely to hear all about it from the Inn keeper," she shrugged. "I am sorry for rushing us through, if you wanted to question them further, my Lady," she sighed. "I thought only to gain entry to Leyawiin so that we might prepare for your audience with the Count and Countess Caro. _If_ one is obtainable," Caroline finished wryly.

"I will take care of that," I replied swiftly. I was confident that I would be able to gain audience at the castle, despite whatever had happened there. And if not, I knew enough about Alessia Caro that I would be able to devise a way for us to cross paths.

We stepped up to the Three Sisters' Inn, and I liked it as soon as we stepped inside. It felt the opposite to the world outside; warm and comfortable, with dark, high-quality wooden furniture. The common room was empty, except for the proprietor; a Khajiit woman. Upon seeing her, I remembered from my lessons that Leyawiin was largely populated by Khajiit owing to Elsweyr gaining control of the Trans-Niben region in the second era. Inwardly, I grimaced as the memory of Leyawiin's history lead me to recall Countess Caro's quite public abhorrence of Khajiit and Argonian people.

I needed to be accepted by the Countess, but I made a mental note to direct discussion away from topics that we would disagree over.

The proprietor, whose name was Shuravi, was quite direct with us, and at the back of my mind I wondered if she, and the woman at the stables, had taken an instant dislike to me because I was an Imperial? Perhaps a prejudice, owing to the Countess' opinion, now existed between Imperials and Khajiit in the whole county?

Caroline must have sensed something, too, because instead of making small-talk with the proprietor, and finding out more about what had happened at Castle Leyawiin, she instead launched straight into the task of obtaining our accommodation.

Whatever the reason for Shuravi's bluntness, our Septims were still as good as any one else's, and in practically no time at all, Caroline and I were shown to a large, well-furnished room on the second floor.

Caroline had asked for food, water, and clothing to be delivered, and had paid the woman well. I lay down on top of the soft bed with a blissful sigh, closing my eyes as my head touched the pillow, as soon as Shuravi had gone.

"Can we not rest a few hours, Caroline?" I asked her quietly.

I felt, rather than heard, Caroline sit on the bed next to me. "I wish we could, my Lady, but we had better tidy ourselves up, first. Let's see what the hour is once we are clean. You will feel a little better, after some food - you'll see," she added, in a cheery tone edged with a fatigue than I wasn't used to hearing from her.

It took all my remaining willpower to sit up, but I did it so that I wouldn't risk falling asleep, and opened my eyes. Caroline was frowning and gripping the edge of the bed, staring at the closed door, but it looked as though her mind was far away.

I frowned now, too. "Are you all right?"

Caroline turned her head so she faced me, and smiled. "I am fine," she promised, sounding lighter. "The anger that built up inside me during our stay in Bravil is enough to sustain me for days!"

I knew my bodyguard well enough to know that her mind was occupied, despite her assurances, but I would never press her to tell me something she did not wish me to know. I smiled, laughing at her reply despite the likelihood of her being somewhat serious, as I remembered Caroline's breed of white-hot rage. The Count had been lucky that Caroline's oaths and honour would have never allowed her to challenge him, unless he openly committed treason.

"Then you had better rest now," I told her, in jest, "and save that energy for Oblivion."

Caroline's smile faltered slightly, and she sighed. "You do realise that the Count and Countess will not think it proper; you, offering yourself up to Oblivion in exchange for soldiers?"

I nodded, also sobering somewhat. "Yes."

"Do you have a plan?" she asked me quietly.

Now I sighed. "I don't know," I told her, truthfully. "We have been so caught up in Bravil's nonsense that I have barely spared a thought for how to manage Leyawiin. Do you have any ideas?" I asked her.

Caroline considered for a moment, but when she opened her mouth to reply we were interrupted by the arrival of the water, food and clothes, delivered by two Khajit women, who said they were Shuravi's sisters, but not much else, as they unloaded their burdens then held out their paws. Caroline glared at them, before she handed over a few Septims to make them leave. Apparently, we were to be fleeced during our stay.

So be it, I thought, dismissing the women; there were truly more important things than money, and we would not be staying at the Three Sisters' for long. Once we were prepared, and presented ourselves to Castle Leyawiin, we would be given an apartment there to use for the duration of our stay, as was the privilege of being a member of the Cyrodiil aristocracy.

Once they had gone, Caroline and I ate quickly and sorted through the small selection of clothing that had been delivered. There was a tan-coloured cotton dress with embroidered detail on the neck, cuffs, and hemline that would suit my station well enough and appease the Countess' love of modesty, and a sea-green dress that Caroline could wear underneath her armour to achieve the look of a high-born lady's bodyguard.

While we washed ourselves, I longed for a proper bath, remembering the enormous stone walk-in bathing rooms in Castle Bruma.

 _Soon, you will be back in Bruma,_ I told myself, calculating that if we were delayed for no more than a day in Leyawiin and Cheydinhal each, we could be in Bruma in under a week.

Once I was as clean as I could be made with a pail of warm water and a washcloth, I sat in a towel at the table in our room, sipping tea and feeling much better than I had when we had first entered the room.

Caroline was dressing, and during her adjustment of the laces down the sides of the green garment, she suddenly stopped, mid-tie, and looked up to me with wide eyes.

I caught her movement in the corner of my eye, and swiftly turned to look at her. "What's wrong?" I asked hurriedly.

She shook her head and held her hand up. "Nothing, my Lady," she assured me. "I am having a thought, is all," she resumed her adjustments.

"About what?" I asked, after a moment's silence.

Caroline joined me at the table, then, sitting opposite me, and I could now see that her eyes were bright with realisation, not fear. "Your entreaty to the Count and Countess," she began. "There might be a way to secure their Guard and maintain the stature expected of you."

"How?" I prompted.

She held her hand out to indicate me. "You are here, now, because of a request made to you by the late Emperor," she explained in a rush, lowering her hand. "And an Emperor rules Tamriel by the will of Akatosh," she continued, smiling widely. "What do the Caro's love more than their own propriety?"

"The Nine Divines," I answered, as I realised where she was leading us. I felt my own eyes widen at her proposal. "Caroline, are you suggesting that I tell them that I've been instructed to go through Oblivion by _Akatosh_?!"

"No, of course not - not directly," Caroline waved her hand in dismissal. "But there is much you could achieve using implication," she said pointedly. "And you know that the Count and Countess are too subtle and righteous to question matters concerning the Divines."

I took a deep, steadying breath, as I considered what she'd said. Yes, I had used the Emperor's final words to our advantage on occasion. Yes, the Caro's might accept my part in this, if they believed I was on a quest at the behest of one of the Divines.

It did not take me long to weigh the options. The simple truth was that we needed soldiers for Bruma, and after my failure in Bravil, I needed to do this by any means possible, and as quickly as possible. Yes, I realised; I _could_ word a request to the Count and Countess Caro that implied this. It might even work in my favour, as they would respect my rising to meet the will of the Divines, despite my being horrendously unqualified for such a task.

I nodded to Caroline, finally, smiling. "Thank you. You have given me more to work with than I had figured out for myself."

Caroline looked triumphant, as though we had already gained assistance. "Don't thank me, my Lady. I am happy to have finally been of some use to you in your addresses."

I burst out laughing at this. "Caroline, you jest," I shook my head, tears in my eyes as I beheld my somewhat confused bodyguard. "When have you ever _not_ been of use, to me or to all of Cyrodiil, for that matter?" I explained. "I would have destroyed our hopes of obtaining an army for Bruma if it weren't for you."

"I very much doubt that, my Lady," she seemed slightly embarrassed, then nodded to the dress that we'd selected earlier, clearing her throat a little. "Come, let's get you dressed before you catch a cold," she changed the topic. "We can't have you battling daedra with a snuffly nose, can we?" she smirked, rising.

"I'm not planning on battling daedra in a dress," I replied with a raised eyebrow, also rising and moving to her side. "Particularly _this_ one," I fingered the embroidery on one of the sleeves.

"All right, battle Counts and Countesses," Caroline added with amusement. Then; "Arms up," she didn't wait for a reply, unwrapping my towel, and I did as she commanded. The slightly cool, stiff cotton fell down around me, covering me from neck to toe. I stared down at the dress, as I felt Caroline start to tighten the ties at the back, and adjusted my balance so I wouldn't pitch over. The cut was demure; the skirt was so full that it fell into waves of pleats, and the waistline was higher than most modern dresses, sitting on my actual waist, rather than at my hips, which made the dress appear longer than it otherwise would have.

These dresses, these outfits and preparations that I was constantly making to address the nobility, I realised, _were_ a sort of armour, and my audiences _were_ a sort of battle. Once again, likely because Caroline had recently mentioned them, I reflected upon the late Emperor's final words to me, though they didn't bring me pain, for once.

_"And I am sorry, but you must close them now, my child. You must close the jaws of Oblivion."_

What _had_ the Emperor foreseen I would achieve, exactly, I wondered? Was it possible that he had seen that they would need not somebody who was born and raised to fight, but rather somebody who could talk, and be listened to?

I dismissed my thoughts swiftly with a shake of my head, realising that they would only lead me to further pointless speculation about prophecies and the Elder Scroll that Ruma Camoran had told us of, which named one chosen by the Septims. I had promised to not become obsessed with that riddle again, and so I had to vigilantly catch my musings before I allowed my mind to run away with itself.

–

By the time Caroline and I had departed the Three Sisters' Inn and entered the Castle Leyawiin grounds, the sun had risen, and the fog had all but dispersed. We were admitted by the guards on duty at the entrance without hesitation, though as Captain Draconis had told us, we were advised that court had been cancelled, indefinitely.

The steward that met us inside the entry hall was Argonian, and seemed more professional, though just as tight-lipped, as the Khajit women we had encountered since arriving in Leyawiin.

"Lady Passero, you are a day late for the dinner party, I am afraid," she told me, after introducing herself as On-Staya Sundew.

"I am not here for the party," I said again, and shook my head. "Captain Draconis told us that we are fortunate not to have been present for it," I added, wondering if On-Staya would be willing to share what had happened.

"You are correct on that account, my Lady," she indicated that we follow her, but didn't elaborate.

I sighed as we were lead through the castle toward a guest chamber, and told myself that it didn't matter what had happened; I needed to concentrate on gaining audience and fulfilling our quest.

"Do you know if the Count or Countess are available for breakfast?" I asked her simply, keeping my tone unaffected. "I have an important matter to discuss with them, on behalf of the Emperor."

On-Staya flickered me an uncertain glance. "I shall make your request known to them, Lady Passero. I can promise you no more than that."

"They must have had quite the fright, to be so withdrawn now," Caroline mused idly.

"That tends to happen when one is ridiculed at their own dinner table," On-Staya said dryly, stopping in front of a door and opening it, motioning for us to move inside.

" _Ridiculed_?" I asked, aghast, swivelling to face On-Staya. The Count and Countess Caro were more formal than the other nobles, but they didn't deserve to be made fun of, particularly in their own home.

"Who would dare do such a thing?" Caroline asked at the same moment, ushering me into the room, since I had stopped in the doorway.

On-Staya followed us into the room. "Do not trouble yourselves with what is past. Hlidara Mothril is leading enquiries into the incident personally. They will be found and justice will be served. Now," On-Staya changed the topic, "you should find everything that you need for your stay here but should you require anything else, don't hesitate to ask any of the servants..."

I suppressed a shudder, as On-Staya continued on about the facilities of the room and the location of the servants quarters. Hlidara had been the Countess' governess when she was younger, and since Alessia had married, her position in the Caro household had become that of chaplain and advisor to the Countess. I had met the terrifying Altmer woman at Alessia's wedding, and for a moment pitied whoever had made fun of the Caro's, for there was no doubt in my mind that if they were found, they would be punished severely.

Once On-Staya had left, Caroline confirmed that the room was secure, and locked the door.

I sat on the bed, my eyes following her movements. "I don't think we should enquire about the Count or Countess' availability directly again," I told her. "It will only make them suspicious."

Caroline agreed with me, nodding as she returned to my side and sat down next to me. "No, I don't think that would be wise," she turned to look down at me. "Why don't you sleep?"

I was glad for the suggestion, and gladder that Caroline hadn't become frustrated by yet another delay. I nodded, shifting so that I was lying down, without bothering to change. I doubted the Caro's would call on me if they weren't accepting any visitors, and we would find something fresh for me to wear when I woke. Caroline shifted, standing over me to raise the covers.

"Thank you," I told her, yawning a little now that I was allowing myself to properly feel my own fatigue. "Will you sleep too?" I asked her.

Caroline hesitated. "I suppose I could," she considered, as though the thought actually hadn't occurred to her. "You won't mind?"

"Of course not!"

"Even though we are in a foreign castle, the night after a 'fracas'?" she asked calmly. I regarded her, and saw that she was smiling. "The Emperor would have my head," she sighed as she leaned over me again, to adjust the covers a little.

"No he wouldn't. Go to bed, Caroline," I mumbled, waving her away.

"If you insist, my Lady."

–

When I woke, close to noon, Caroline was still asleep on a single bed close to the locked door. I rose quietly, tip-toeing to the bathroom to refresh myself, feeling greatly restored and determined.

I knew for certain that I would have no luck in simply requesting a meeting with the Caro's; not today, and perhaps not even a week from now, as they recovered from whatever injury had been done to their pride. But, as Caroline had said earlier, there was one thing the Caro's loved more than their propriety: The Divines. And I could use this information to ensure that we crossed paths.

Caroline woke soon after, and once I'd outlined the basics of my plan to her, we hurriedly prepared and made for the Great Chapel of Zenithar. I cast a small prayer to the winds and promised to endure, asking that the God lend me some luck.

–

I spent several hours in the dimly-lit, cavernous Chapel, kneeling on a cushion in front of an altar to the God of Work and Commerce, Zenithar. Many had come and gone over the course of those hours, all casting me curious glances, but I had remained as I was, eyes turned down, hands clasped in front of me. I had dressed in a modest dress of light blue and white before we had set out, intending to present a picture of humility. Caroline stood a respectful distance from me, leaning on one of the pillars, ever-watchful of all who came and went in the Chapel.

While I waited, I went over again and again in my head what I would say to the Countess, should she arrive to pray, as I assumed she would. Alessia Caro, who was only four years my senior, was devout in her studies and worship of Zenithar. One as pious as the Countess was likely to visit the Chapel on a daily basis, regardless of what had happened the previous night (or perhaps _because_ of it). All I needed to do was endure.

And of course, she did visit the Chapel. I had thought that I would be alerted to the presence of the Countess when she knelt to pray by the alter, but I was made aware of her arrival in a surprising manner, when I heard someone enquiring after me.

"Has the Lady Passero been in attendance at the Chapel the entire day, Kantav?" I heard a regal voice asking in a hushed tone.

I closed my eyes when I heard the voice, but strained my hearing to catch more of the conversation.

"Very nearly, Countess," I heard the Primate confirm in a hush. "Her unwavering serenity speaks volumes of her devotion to Zenithar."

I inwardly cheered. Not only was the Countess here, but the Primate of the Chapel was speaking _in my favour_.

"So it would seem," was the Countess' reply.

They spoke no more, but I kept my eyes closed and my head lowered, as I heard movement close by me; the sounds of a cushion being laid down; the rustling of folds of material as somebody knelt beside me.

 _A focused congregant would not be disturbed by the addition of another_ , I thought, and I told myself sternly not to move. She was aware of my being here - she was knelt beside me! - so now I only had to wait for her to address me. I was certain she would.

Kantav spoke again, close by us, and I heard him making the same prayers to Zenithar on behalf of the Countess that he had for me when I had first arrived. But soon he left, and I steadied myself and told myself; _patience_.

It was perhaps another half an hour before the Countess said anything.

"I am rather pleased to see you, Lady Passero," Countess Caro said in her measured tones. "I was told that you were in Leyawiin, but I didn't expect to find you here," she added, in a musing, somewhat suspicious tone.

I opened my eyes, lifting my head to look upon the altar for a moment, and could see her Altmer advisor, Hlidara, standing close by us, in the corner of my eye. I ignored the glaring woman, and focussed entirely on the alter, keeping my voice respectfully low.

"My path these past weeks has been taxing, and there has been little time for matters of the soul," I told her, since her tone had suggested that she knew, very likely from similar studies about me throughout her childhood to those I'd had concerning her, that I was not as devout as she was.

"Yes," she sounded somewhat disapproving, "the papers spin all manner of strangeness regarding your activities."

I turned to face her now, presenting her with a composed smile. The Countess' hair was tied back in a severe bun, and she was staring at me with her wide, brown eyes, which at that moment were calculating, with no hint of amusement in her expression. I noted that she seemed thinner than she had been at her wedding, and again wondered what had happened to her and the Count, the previous night.

"The papers will say anything they wish if they believe it will sell more papers," I inclined my head, then looked back up, determined to create an amiable air between us. "I am certain their reports of me are full of exaggeration and hearsay."

"Hmm," she considered for a moment, her eyes still somewhat wary. "They would have us believe that you are venturing into Oblivion gates personally, though they say not why," she watched me closely for reaction.

I sighed and unclasped my hands, resting them in my lap. "In that regard, I may confirm what they have reported; as is the nature of my oath to the late Emperor."

The Countess was wide-eyed. "Why ever would the later Emperor request such a thing of _you_?"

I didn't miss how she emphasised the 'you', but smoothed down the hackles that rose at her presumption that I was so incredibly useless. She hadn't laid eyes on me since her wedding, when I had been fourteen, and she was a product of her upbringing. She and I were in not so dissimilar positions at one point in our lives, when my purpose had been simply to wed Ebel and bear him children. Her husband had been present at the Elder Council meeting that I had addressed, so she had only his account, and likely her mother's, of the changes I had undergone.

But then, if I had been told that _she_ was fighting her way through Oblivion and was part of a prophecy to save Tamriel, I would have laughed, so it was little wonder she had difficulty in believing it with regards to my involvement.

"I didn't think it my place to deny the will of my Emperor, or question the word a dragonborn, who have been guided by their Gifts and the grace of the Divines since the time of Saint Alessia," I told her quietly, as her exclamation had attracted the attention of several other worshippers in the Chapel.

"No, of course not," the Countess checked herself, smoothing her hands down her skirts, and then motioning to Hlidara that she wished to rise. The harsh Altmer was by her side in an instant, and I made an effort not to shrink back from her intense gaze.

"Walk with me a moment, Sarina," the Countess bade.

"It would be my honour."

Before I could motion for her, Caroline was next to me and lending me her arm so I could rise more gracefully. My knees and legs felt a little stiff after sitting still for so long, but I ignored the ache as Caroline smoothed out my skirt. I was relieved that I had not been immediately dismissed by the Countess.

Countess Caro held out an elbow to me, then we linked arms, as she began to walk slowly down the long aisle of the Chapel, toward the exit.

"Might I presume," the Countess asked, "that your visit to our realm is connected to these oaths you have made?"

"It is," I admitted, waiting for further leave from her before explaining.

The Countess nodded. "I thought as much. For, why else would _you_ be in Leyawiin?"

I wasn't certain what kind of reply was expected of me, so replied with a generic, "I am determined to do my duty to the Emperor."

"You're a good girl," she told me, and it was all I could do to stop myself from laughing at her. She spoke to me as though she was her mother's age, not mine. "And you serve your Empire well. What is it that you need of county Leyawiin?"

I managed to keep myself from stumbling, unable to believe my luck; with so direct a question, I was free to launch into my plea for soldiers, to defend Bruma from the Mythic Dawn's looming attack. I relayed it as simply as possible, since we were nearing the exit to the Chapel, and when I finished, the Countess turned to me and frowned.

"I am sorry, Sarina, but Leyawiin is surrounded by enemies – and infiltrated by those who would do us harm and besmirch our noble way of life," her voice was elevated by a zealousness that somewhat put me on alert. "Countess Carvain might hope to apply to the better natures of those loyal to Imperial Cyrodiil, but you cannot expect me to leave our borders defenceless and unpatrolled in the name of _her_ people."

"I understand," I lowered my head in acceptance, as I felt the eyes of Alessia's formidable Altmer shadow boring into me again. I wondered what the woman was searching for, but remained focused only on the Countess when I raised my eyes. "It is not my wish to leave your people defenceless. The final part of my plea will, I hope, assure Leyawiin's security for a time."

The Countess hesitated, as we reached the doors that lead out of the Chapel, then said quietly. "All right. I am still listening. What do you propose?"

"It is my solemn duty to close any Oblivion gate within your lands that concern you, as foreseen by the late Emperor," I spoke clearly. Now that we were at the doors to the Chapel, there was a chance that passers-by might hear our discussion, which might persuade the Countess to pledge assistance, for fear of seeming callous or disloyal to the Empire. "In exchange for the removal of any immediate threat to your lands, all I would request is that you loan those soldiers who would have been sent into Oblivion in my place be forwarded to Bruma to assist in the defence of the city, and protect the Emperor."

Countess Caro seemed unaffected by my speech, and didn't respond right away, but I recognised training when I saw it; she had schooled her expression to remain neutral, now that we were within range of the public. Hlidara leaned forward at that moment, and put her hand on the Countess' arm.

"My Lady, your appointment with Master Mahei?" she drawled.

"Yes, I remember," she all but hissed at Hlidara, then finally responded to me. "Sarina, I am like you in that I will neither question the will of the Emperor nor my duty to the Empire, and what you propose will be told to my husband," she flicked Hlidara a glance and a nod, then continued.

"If you would dine with us tonight, we will deliver you a decision," she held her arms up slightly, and Hlidara slipped a long, flowing cloak over her arms.

I eyed the cloak wonderingly; it was too warm in Leyawiin for it, and there was a strange, blue hue emanating from it, meaning that it was under some sort of enchantment. Caroline was close enough to nudge me without the Countess perceiving it, and I looked up quickly and thanked her, with all the polite formalities I could manage.

Seemingly satisfied, the Countess said her farewells and she and her advisor left the Chapel.

I watched their departure from the doorway of the Chapel, and once they had turned the corner of the immense building, I turned to Caroline and grabbed her forearms excitedly, exhaling a breath I hadn't realised I had been holding. "It worked!" I celebrated quietly.

Caroline smiled down at me, and I noticed pride in her expression, and her tone, when she replied, "That was beautiful, my Lady. But we have not secured their alliance yet," she cautioned me.

"A trivial matter," I let go of her arms, and waved her concern away. We had experienced so little success of late that even this small victory made me feel more hopeful than I had felt in days. I practically bounced down the stairs of the Chapel, while Caroline hurried after me, laughing.

"My Lady," she caught up to me, "I do not wonder that the Septims _did_ choose you to be their champion," she said in an undertone. "I doubt anyone in all of Tamriel could have had the success that you have had in raising an army so swiftly."

I felt a little discomfort at the way she worded her praise, but did not want to lose my feeling of delight yet, so shrugged it off; and, her remark had reminded me that our quest for allies would soon be over. It was probable that we would be back at Cloud Ruler Temple within a week.

"I should write another letter to Martin, when we get back to the castle," I told her as we walked. "It has been a while since I have sent him anything," I slowed my pace down to a walk, remembering that it would not do for me to be seen frolicking in the streets.

Caroline agreed with me, but her reply was accompanied by a smirk. "Yes, I am sure that he Emperor would love to hear from you. And once that is done, we can take our time preparing for dinner tonight with the Count and Countess."

I rolled my eyes at her smirk, but nodded at the latter remark, and we continued on to Castle Leyawiin in high spirits.

Perhaps the time I had spent praying at Zenithar's altar _had_ won me some of the God's trademark luck.


	39. Ash

Count and Countess Caro agreed to send soldiers for the Bruma defence that night as we ate dinner, though their promise was structured slightly differently to the other county's. Instead of setting off to close an Oblivion gate to make soldiers available, the Count explained that the three legions of soldiers they were committing to Bruma's cause were to be sent to a nearby Oblivion gate _with_ me. They would assist me in closing the gate, allowing me to uphold my promise to the Emperor, while ensuring I was adequately protected, Count Caro had said. Then, once closed, the legions that had accompanied me through Oblivion would be at my disposal, and could be dispatched to Bruma.

Three legions was enough, and I didn't waste time explaining that Caroline was all the protection I had ever needed. I knew that the particulars of their pledge were intertwined with the Countess' disbelief in my apparent necessity to fulfil a task that so ill-befitted my stature.

Whatever the Countess thought of me, I thanked the Caro's and assured them that once the threat to Bruma and the Emperor had been overcome, their soldiers would be returned.

And so it was that, the next morning, Caroline and I travelled in a party of some thirty other soldiers, almost all of whom wore the white cuirass of the Leyawiin guard, with a few being slightly more heavily dressed in plate armour. One addition to our party wore robes of teal and a haughty expression; a battlemage from the Mages guild, to lend his spells to our plight.

Initially I had thought his inclusion to be a good idea, and wished that we had thought to apply to the Mages and Fighters guilds in each city while we had been there, but as I got to know the man I began to wonder if the Mages guild had sent him with us in the hope that he would not return from Oblivion.

His name was Kalthar, and he lead our party, as he had the directions to the gate we were bound to close that morning. He wore a cuirass of chainmail over his mage's robes, and a small dagger at his hip, but was otherwise unarmed. As with most battlemages, however, the charred marks on the cuffs of his sleeves told of where Kalthar's true arsenal was being kept. The Nord man was very tall, as most Nords were, with a face that might have been considered pleasing had his mouth not been curled into a perpetual frown and his heavy eyebrows not been continually crossed above his glaring brown eyes.

Kalthar raised his hand to signal that our party halt, and then called for those riding to dismount.

"We are close enough now," he explained in a low tone. "There will be daedra nearby, as there always is by a gate. We should proceed on foot."

I pulled on Ilaria's reigns, but before I could dismount, one of the guards close by us let out an all-mighty battle-cry, and surged forward.

"For Leyawiin!" he bellowed.

"What are you doing?" Caroline cried out to him, but he didn't seem to hear her.

Startled by the man's outburst, I then gaped as his actions seemed to spur the rest of the soldiers on. They flowed past me, weapons drawn, calling out battle cries of their own. They disappeared into the forest before us, though we could still hear them crashing through the undergrowth and making more noise than I would have thought possible as they approached the gate that must have been within. The roars and screams of daedra sounded, in the distance, merging with the cries of the attacking guards.

"No, _no_ you idiots, come _back_ ," Kalthar grated through clenched teeth.

I was clinging onto Ilaria as the last of the guards flew past me and into the woods, and Caroline appeared by my side, holding me steady and then helping me down off the horse. "Are you all right?" she asked hurriedly.

I nodded, righting myself on the earth and adjusting my sword belt and bow, so they were straight. "What did they do that for?" I asked her, still quite unable to believe what had happened.

"See?" Kalthar turned to us, waving his hand at the woods the guards had charged into. "This, my Lady, _this_ is why you don't send a brute to deal with anything that requires a hint of subtlety," he scathed furiously. "I tried to tell the Count, but he, as usual, would not hear a word of ill spoken against his own soldiers."

I flickered Kalthar a frustrated glance. His pretentious manner was grating on me, and we had been in his presence for less than an hour. I made a motion to Caroline that we proceed. "Come on. Let's see if we can salvage the situation."

 _Or any of our promised legions_ , I added as an under thought. It would do Bruma no good if the guards promised from Leyawiin died in battle before we had even ventured into the Oblivion gate we were meant to close to secure their assistance.

I readied an arrow in my bow but held it down beside me as I stepped carefully into the woods, casting my eyes about for signs of movement. I could hear everything; the clash of metal and the enraged screams from both daedra and soldier alike. Caroline had her sword drawn and she and I stepped gingerly over broken branches and leaf litter, though the soldiers were making such a racket that we probably needn't have bothered trying to mask our approach.

Kalthar was on my other side, his dagger in one hand and his other, raised and poised to fire. I could hear him muttering curses under his breath. Caroline shushed him swiftly, with a look that would have turned most people's blood to ice, but the battlemage seemed unaffected, though ceased his disgruntled commentary.

Before we reached the clearing created by the Oblivion gate, I saw guards fighting Dremora and scamps, and raised my bow, pressing myself against a tree to survey the situation. Caroline did the same, sheathing her sword and unshouldering the bow she was carrying. Kalthar, after looking between us both, sighed loudly and then stepped back behind a tree of his own.

I drew the arrow I had readied, targeting a Dremora with a mace that was standing still enough to fire on, as it was beating into a terrified-looking Leyawiin guard's shield, the wood splintering under the force.

I fired, and before confirming whether or not the arrow had met its mark, drew another. In my periphery I could see Caroline taking aim with an arrow of her own, and without turning to the battlemage, decided that he needed a reminder of where we were.

"Fire in your own time, Kalthar," I spoke up as I took aim on a scamp that had skittered backwards from a blow by a guard, close to where we were hidden.

He didn't reply, and I shot the scamp close by us before I took notice of him again. His hand was raised, and from it flowed a stream of purple-hued magic. I reached back for another arrow, my eyes on his spell all the while, as I wondered what he had cast.

I stopped wondering when I saw a nearby fallen Leyawiin guard stir, as the spell settled onto the dead woman like an enormous bruise. Within a moment, the spell had dissipated, the only signs of it being cast a very faint, white light surrounding the woman, and she rose. I watched as she leaped toward a scamp, straddled the creature around the neck and drove her sword down into its skull, her face eerily serene all the while.

I pursed my lips and tried to dismiss the unease that watching Kalthar's magic at work had created in me. Sternly telling myself to focus and let him do his work, I turned back to look over the battle, as Caroline loosed an arrow on the other side of me.

The daedra milling around the fiery gate were nearly all felled, and the Leyawiin guard had lost perhaps half a legion, all of whom Kalthar seemed to be in the process of reanimating. The living guards looked just as uneasy as I felt about their resurrected comrades, and once the final daedra was finished off, stood apart from the silent, expressionless men and women who had gathered in a line and trailed after Kalthar as he stepped out of our cover spot and walked toward the Oblivion gate.

"Lady Passero," he called back to me, and I noticed a hint of smugness in his voice. "We may proceed at your leisure."

I shook my head at the man, from the treeline, and noticed Caroline hadn't lowered her bow yet.

"Say the word, my Lady, and he shall be silenced," she told me quietly, though it sounded as though she was clenching her teeth. "I have a perfect shot."

I huffed and reached out to her, resting a hand on her arm so she would lower her bow. "Come on."

We joined the assembled guards, and I nodded to Kalthar and his assembled army of the recently deceased. "Cover the gate. I would speak to the soldiers, and I don't want any surprises while I do."

Without waiting to see if he did as I asked, I turned to the assembled, remaining Leyawiin guard. "I commend you on your valour," I began, feeling the need to acknowledge that they had dispatched a fair number of daedra. "But I would appreciate a stealth-based approach, once we are within," I indicated the gate, casting it a glance. The heat radiating from it made the air around it shimmer, and the licks of flame curved ever-inwards, hungrily calling us in.

I looked back to the guards, who were silent, and looked uncertain. Suddenly, I wondered if any of these guards had been near to an Oblivion gate before. Perhaps Leyawiin hadn't been set upon by the Dawn as frequently as the other northern counties had.

I steeled my expression, reasoning that they were trained soldiers, regardless of their specific experience with daedra or not, and they needed command and confidence, not comfort. I put forward a plan of action to them.

"We'll all of us enter the realm of Mehrunes Dagon, in a moment. Those of you who have any skill with the bow, put away your swords, and ready your arrows – you're with me. Those of you who are better short range fighters," I nodded to my bodyguard, "you're with Caroline. She'll instruct you further."

"What about me?" Kalthar asked, and I turned to meet the man's haughty expression with a blank one.

"You have reanimated the fallen to continue fighting for us?" I confirmed with him.

He nodded, his eyes hard and glaring still.

I wanted to sigh at his attitude, but stopped myself from doing so. "Do you have any skill in restoration?"

Now he shook his head.

"Then your task within Oblivion," I told him, "is to manage the actions of those you have reanimated. They can form our front line, should our ranged attack be overcome, and hopefully," I turned back to the soldiers, "your fallen comrade's sacrifice will ensure that no more need die today."

The two and a half remaining legions looked uneasy, still, but I noticed that the bulk of the wariness was directed toward Kalthar now, and his rigid, half-legion army.

There was nothing I could do for their superstitions, I decided, and turned to Caroline. "Are you ready?" I asked her.

She nodded. "At your word, my Lady."

"All right. Let's get this over with."

I stepped forward and walked past the watchful soldiers, my eyes glued to the burning void, and could hear Caroline's footfalls close behind mine. I heard the sound of swords being drawn from scabbards, but only just, over the roaring of the Oblivion gate as we neared it's threshold.

I gazed up to the gate as it loomed above me, and paused for a moment, frowning at it. Caroline and I had taken care of Oblivion gates between the two of us; the addition of almost thirty living to our number should have made me feel less wary and nervous than it did.

Reminding myself that crossing over into Oblivion always generated its own type of fear, and that I was likely feeling the onset of that, I stepped up and into the gaping maw. Its grabby heat clawed at my face and armour, and the feeling of falling overcame me.

 _For Martin_ , I repeated to myself as the portal simultaneously tugged and pushed at me and I was blinded by the heat in a blur of transition.

When I felt that my feet were on solid ground again, I rose, lifting up my bow immediately, and stepped forward to make room for those who were following me, taking aim while I scouted our surrounds.

Caroline stepped up beside me, her sword at the ready. "We are clear?"

I nodded, my eyes still on the mass of black stone and expanse of angry, billowing sky before us. "The daedra around this side of the gate must have all come through to our side earlier," I murmured to her, as we continued forward.

Behind us, I heard the arrival of the Leyawiin legions, and asked Caroline to cover me while I faced them again.

I turned in time to see Kalthar step down from the gate, looking as unaffected as one might if they had merely stepped through a doorway into another room; but there was no sign of his half-legion of reanimated guards.

I addressed him instead of the other soldiers. "Where are they?" I asked him.

"Who?" he asked, looking around himself, then must have realised what I meant. "Oh. I suppose they couldn't sustain the cross-over. I did wonder if they'd be able to. They'll have expired, I suppose," he waved his hand at the gate behind us.

I grimaced at the lack of feeling in his reply, and while I wanted to remind him that they had not long ago been living, breathing guards with lives and families, I knew that there was no time for such sentiment now that we were in Oblivion.

"Then you are with me and those with bows," I told him briefly as I turned from him to look upon the rest of the guards. "Use your destructive spells at range," I added, in case it wasn't obvious. "All right," I returned to addressing the others. "Who's with me?"

A number of the guard stepped forward; all wielding standard-issue longbows. I motioned that they follow me, and the remainder with short-range weapons moved to join Caroline.

There was no cave system in whatever sector of Oblivion the Leyawiin gate had landed us in. We were exposed to the frantic winds of the churning sky and heat of the molten rock surrounding us; exposed and vulnerable to attack, as the archers and I made our way along a chasm, moving ever-closer to the black tower in the distance that issued the tell-tale vertical beam of sickly-looking yellow light. But while some of my company cast fearful glances at the rock outcroppings that towered over us as we progressed, I felt more calm.

I didn't fear an attack from above. The daedra I had encountered thus far had never been subtle. I had told the archers with me this, quietly, at one point during our journey, but perhaps they hadn't believed me. Perhaps they thought that daedra would behave as they did. But daedra, despite their class system, were berserkers, full of rage, and thought little of their own defence. Our slow pace and ranged weapons, and our numbers, allowed us to fell any potential threats in the chasm before they had been made aware of our approach or presence.

As we approached the end of the chasm we had been inching our way along, I pressed my back against the black rock wall and motioned for those behind me to do the same. I heard Kalthar sigh dramatically and noticed that he was the last of my party to do as I'd bade, but merely rolled my eyes at the his attitude when I turned away from them to assess what was the other side of our cover.

Did he _want_ a battle, I wondered furiously?

I forgot about Kalthar when I took in what lay before us, and whipped back around to press myself against the rock lest I be seen, schooling my expression so that I wouldn't incite panic in the rest of the archers. My hopes for a stealthy, almost silent victory against Oblivion were shattered, and I motioned over the other soldier's heads for Caroline to approach.

My bodyguard did so silently; the soldiers between she and I shifting to make way for her, and her mouth was a grim, straight line by the time she had settled next to me.

"What is it, what's going on?" Kalthar chose to ask at that moment.

"Shh!" Caroline and I both furiously hushed him. I indicated that Caroline should look around our rocky cover for herself, as I swapped places with her and rounded on Kalthar myself.

"Do you _want_ to get us all killed?" I snapped at him in an exasperated hush.

I turned back to Caroline as he began to defend his actions – in a hush of his own now, thankfully – and I ignored whatever reply he came up with.

"Did you see the hoard?" I asked Caroline in a whisper. "What kind of daedra are they?" I bit my bottom lip out of worry.

Caroline shook her head. "I don't know, my Lady. They look like bigger, angrier, less organised Dremora."

I nodded at her assessment; I had noticed as much during my brief glance. Larger than usual Dremora-ish creatures with grey skin and horns, wielding heavy battle axes and staves, patrolling a large, open area of Oblivion that was spread out before the thin walkways that lead to the tower we had to reach. When I had taken a look, one of them had been casting Flames from its monstrous hand, to roast a spider creature, which told me that this breed of daedra at least had some control of magic, too.

"How many of them are there?" Kalthar asked; he, and the other soldiers near to us, had of course heard our exchange.

Caroline met his gaze, her eyes glaring and her tone icy. "Too many," she told him, then turned her gaze back to me. "But we have no choice but to proceed," she added. "Might I suggest you and your archers scale the cliffs, my Lady?" she whispered. "It will extend your range," she added hurriedly, as I had opened my mouth to protest. "And if they believe their attackers are above them, it may give us the time we need to draw them back into the chasm, so that we don't have to take all of them on at once."

I closed my mouth with a snap and nodded. It was as good a plan as any, and I was aware that we couldn't waste time discussing a strategy, for we would eventually be found by one of the patrolling daedra if we didn't move, and soon.

"Will you have room enough to fight, in the chasm?" I asked her.

Caroline shrugged, and then motioned to the soldiers behind us to fall back, so we could tell them of the plan. "We will make do. I prefer our chances in this chasm, than out in the open against those things. Come, there was a rock fall a few turns back that you and the other ranged fighters can use to get into place."

Shuddering with nerves, I moved back with the rest of the Leyawiin soldiers until we came the rockfall Caroline had mentioned, that I had not noticed when we had first walked by it. I stared at the rockfall, looking up to where we would have to position ourselves at the top of the wall, and left Caroline to explain to the others what was ahead of us, and what the attack plan was, to the nervous soldiers. I reasoned that as a Blade, and a fighter, they would appreciate her experience and confident manner more than they would my words, at that moment.

Caroline finished outlining what we were to do and immediately instructed the archers to begin climbing. I waited next to her, watching their ascent and reminding myself that I would have to make that climb shortly, too. But I would go last, I told myself, and Caroline must have reasoned the same, for she didn't tell me to hurry, as she did the others.

I turned to her when it was nearly my turn to climb, and shouldered my bow. "Good luck," I said to her.

She nodded to me. "You too. And..." her voice dropped a little, to a volume that only I might hear. "Promise me that you will stay out of sight," she hesitated, then put a hand on my shoulder. I gave her a quizzical look, and she sighed, casting her eyes around us again, then continued.

"Dagon wants you, for some reason, Sarina," she dropped my title, which made me nervous, as it told me that she was more worried than she was letting on. "Fire on as many of those hellbeasts as you can, but _stay hidden_ ," she emphasised, her eyes softening with a worry that only further fuelled my anxiety. "I have no doubt that the hoard we are about to battle were put in place solely with the purpose of stopping you."

My heart hammered in my chest, and I was unable to find words to disagree with her, so I merely nodded in reply.

She removed her hand from my shoulder and nodded to the boulder that the other archers had begun their ascent on. "Come on, I'll give you a hand," she clasped her hands in front of her, and indicated that I use them to step up onto the first rock.

Caroline's words about Dagon adding forces to his realms to specifically stop, and possibly capture, me, had silenced me, and I made myself move so I would have to focus on the climb, and not my thoughts. I put my hand on her shoulder and levered myself up, stepping up to her clasped hands and then gripping the top of the hot, black rock with my other hand, as Caroline lifted me slightly so I could scramble to the top of it, and follow the others.

The rock scalded my hands as I climbed, but I clung on regardless, for the alternative was to fall. The path to the top of the chasm wasn't as difficult as I had first thought it would be; the rock fall had provided many reasonably-sized boulders and the heat of Oblivion must have fused them somewhat, so the fall was steady enough. The ascent was as difficult as ascending a large set of stairs, and the top of the chasm levelled out into a flat tabletop that gave the other archers, Kalthar and I an unrivalled view of the area surrounding us.

One of the Leyawiin soldiers took my hand and helped me up the final step onto the platform, and as we stretched our arms and legs and readied our bows again, I was approached by Kalthar, wearing his disdainful expression yet again.

"You do realise, Lady Passero, that my destructive spells will have less effect at such a range?" he asked me.

I crossed my brows at him. "Then why did you ascend with us?" I asked.

He huffed an unhelpful reply; " _You_ assigned me to _your_ party."

"Yes - but," I started hurriedly, then noticed the other soldiers waiting for instructions.

I shook my head at him. "There's no time for this. Make use of your magic however you can to assist us, and if you can do nothing, then stay out of our way," I turned to the others.

Once again, I ignored Kalthar's reply, as I moved to the front of the group, then motioned to the archers that we sneak along the top of the cliff.

For a time, the only sounds we could hear were the winds of Oblivion and the churning, groaning molten rock on the far side of the clifftop. Ash wafted over us, dusting our faces with a fine layer of black soot that stuck to our sweaty exposed faces and hands.

As we neared the end of the tabletop that we walked along, I indicated that we halt. Once all of the others had stopped, I crouched down, and edged to the drop off, to look out at the army of daedra we were about to launch an attack on.

The sight of the hoard of larger, disorderly beasts below us, despite being at a safer distance than before, still took my breath away.

There had to be at least a hundred; I didn't have time to count them, and as they shoved and punched one another, as they stood there, waiting, I wondered what they had been told, exactly, to wait for. Were they operating under instructions? Was it even possible to organise such a mob? And what was keeping them in position?

I shuffled back to the rest of the archers, and nodded for them to ready their bows, and await Caroline's signal. Such was the angle of the escarpment that it was impossible for us to see Caroline and the rest of the short-range fighters in the chasm below, but my bodyguard must have anticipated this.

We waited in silence, out of sight, as the minutes ticked by. Caroline and the others must have reached their hiding spot by now; I reasoned that she was only holding off to give us time to get into position.

I strained my ears to hear it and it eventually came; a low whistle. The others heard it too, and I looked at the archer to my left, and Kalthar to my right, before nodding and moving forward, so we could aim and fire. I knelt down at the cliff edge, as those with me did, and aimed an arrow at the nearest daedra I could see, holding my bow taught and waiting until the other archers were settled behind us.

We formed two rows, of five each, and when I turned my head to make sure that all bows were drawn and aimed, with the exception of Kalthar, who had his hand raised and a small sphere of what looked like a sparks spell gathering there, I wet my lips then replied to Caroline's whistle with my own. It indicated to her that we were starting the attack, and within seconds of my whistling, arrows were loosed either side of me. I exhaled, as time seemed to slow down around me and let my own drawn arrow fly, praying to any of the Gods listening that we would find our marks, but too anxious about the number of enemies before us to wait and ensure it had before I drew and fired again.

Prior to our attack, below us, where the daedra had gathered, it was obvious that the air had been tense. So many unpredictable, disorganised, fiery creatures in one space had created an air thick with anger and during the brief glances I had had of the hoard, I had witnessed attacks, punches and shoves within their own ranks.

Our firing into the mass caused _mayhem_. Half of the creatures that our first wave hit fell, I was relieved to note, with a single shot, and a few others cried out in rage, indicating that the arrows hadn't quite met their mark. Our second wave only amplified the chaos below, as the beasts roared and raged, searching for their attackers; for _us._

By the third wave, those nearest us that hadn't fallen had figured it out, and I loosed my third arrow with a sickening thud to my chest as I realised that there were still far too many for some fifteen short-range soldiers to take on. I readied my fourth arrow swiftly, remembering that Caroline's plan was to lure them into the tight-walls of the chasm, to keep the front that they fought smaller.

Given what I had seen; the unpredictability of the daedra and their apparent indifference to one another, I hoped that not only would drawing them into the chasm give our soldiers a fighting chance, but also that their frustration in not being able to reach Caroline and the Leyawiin guard at once would result in a few more civil skirmishes or at least accidents amongst themselves.

Kalthar's shock magic tore through the air with a loud _CRACK_ as it whizzed past us, leaving a sharp tang in the air for a moment as it left him, and I followed his spell's path with my arrow trained on its destination. The bolt of electricity hit a daedra in the chest and staggered it, but didn't fell it. I grimaced and loosed my arrow, taking the beast down.

"Don't you have any stronger spells?" I asked him as I reached for another arrow, as the front wave of daedra disappeared from view and into the chasm beside us. The sounds of battle, which I knew must now be occurring, were muted by the cries of the mass of approaching daedra and the howling of the winds of Oblivion.

I flickered a glance Kalthar's way and noticed his teeth were clenched and eyebrows were as crossed as ever, but he didn't reply as he reached both of his hands out, and a sphere of white-hot energy began to pool there.

While the larger-than-usual daedra stormed the chasm and began to gather around the entryway, those of us on the clifftop fired relentlessly. I was sick with anxiety for Caroline and the troops with her, and forced myself again and again to keep on task. Caroline knew what she was doing.

When no more daedra were in view; having pushed their way into the chasm, and forced the short-range fighters back, I assumed; we shouldered our bows and I motioned for the archers to follow me. Before waiting to see if they followed, I ran along the clifftop desperate to find another vantage point that we might shoot and assist the others from, as the enraged screams and roars of the daedric mass flooded up over the wall to us.

A few times we stopped, leaning over the edge as far as we dared, and even managed to loose a few arrows into the bubbling mass of tightly-packed daedra below, before we had to stumble back. Not only were we at risk of toppling over the edge, but the daedra that could perform magic had begun firing all manner of flame and spark spells up at us, after we had loosed our first wave at any of these points.

"Can't you shield us?" one of the archers with me cried out to Kalthar as she stumbled back from the edge of the cliff, after having narrowly escaped being vapourised by a ball of bright white electricity.

I shouldered my bow again and indicated that we press on, as Kalthar replied in a scathing way that he didn't do _that_ sort of magic. I wanted to throttle him for implying that there was anything weak about the school of restoration magic.

There was no questioning that Kalthar was a powerful mage, but I was startled by how he had applied his skill, focusing on destruction and conjuration, and having such disdain for magic that would help others, not harm them.

When we reached the tumble of rocks that we had climbed up initially, we stopped again, finally able to see all that was going on before us in the chasm. The hoard of daedra had been at least halved, I was relieved to see – and at the front of the battle was a golden glow that could only have been some sort of magical shield. I sighed with relief, realising that one amongst the short-range party must have had some ability with wards.

Able to use the patchy rocks at the top of the cliff as cover now, we fired on the tail end of the mass, and were able to duck behind boulders whenever a daedra fired back at us. There was an advantage to having the high ground, but with such overwhelming numbers against us, we lost three members of our party to the daedra below who were hurling magical attacks at us whenever we stepped out from our cover to fire. Those fallen were shortly after resurrected by Kalthar and continued firing for us, but their loss, and subsequent blank expression, saddened as much as unnerved me.

The daedra in the chasm thinned out, and minutes later, when we heard the cheer from below us from the short-range fighters, I realised that it must have been over, and stood tall, lowering my bow. I grinned as I saw the magical ward lowered, and there was much congratulating and shoulder-patting from the remaining archers as we assembled together, at the start of the rock fall so we could make our descent.

I met a grinning Caroline at the bottom of the chasm, as she helped me down with the final boulder then hugged me. "Well done, my Lady!" she cried out, spinning me around. "Oh, that was a battle the bards will be telling in taverns for _eons_ to come!"

Taken by her elation, I laughed as I hugged her back.

–

Of course, the ranged fighters had not been as lucky as us, and had taken heavy casualties. As we stepped over the fallen daedra, retrieving arrows where we could and inching our way back toward the black tower, I saw that, with Caroline included, only four of them remained. We had lost two legions; five soldiers before even entering Oblivion, and fifteen during the recent battle.

I couldn't help but glare at Kalthar, as each time we passed over one of our own fallen comrades, the mage waved his hand and resurrected them as though they were merely a resource to be used as he wished and not once people. But I could not stop him from doing so; despite feeling uneasy about his flippant use of conjuration, I knew that we might need the fallen in a future battle, and their being there might save more from being killed.

A lone Dremora patrolled the front of the Sigil stone tower. One of our archers shot him without delay, and Caroline retrieved the key to the tower. Once within, the Sigil stone rendered us, as usual, deaf to all else, as it loudly poured its energy straight up and down through the middle of the tower.

During our climb to the platform where we knew the Sigil stone would be waiting, the living stayed back, and Caroline motioned for Kalthar to take the lead with his army of resurrected fighters.

The man seemed somehow both resentful and proud to have been given such a task, but before long, returned to us on his own, unfazed, as though he had been out for an afternoon stroll.

I gave him a questioning look and held out my hands, since talk was impossible, and Kalthar shrugged, and made a cutting motion across his neck.

I glared at him and nodded, understanding. So, the resurrected had fallen, and Kalthar had slunk back to us. That meant that there was still some daedra alive in here.

But how many? Caroline held up her hand next, trying to gauge how many we would encounter, and predictably, though it wasn't any less frustrating, Kalthar shrugged again.

Pushing past the man furiously, I took the lead and drew an arrow, edging my way toward the top of the tower. Caroline was beside me, and the remaining Leyawiin guard followed. I knew Kalthar was amongst them, but at that moment I didn't care if he came or fled. His skill was so poorly applied, and his attitude so bad, that I wondered he hadn't gotten _all_ of us killed.

I stepped over fallen scamps and regular-sized Dremora, and around piles of grey ash, frowning with the realisation that they were the remains of the fallen Leyawiin soldiers. How unfitting, how undignified an end for their bravery – but there was nothing I could do for them.

When the path before us was no longer clogged with the dead, I slowed my pace, and waved for the others to ready their weapons. We were close to the top of the platform, where the stone lay waiting for us to remove and bring this horrifying, wasteful venture to an end.

I groaned when I peered around one of the openings that lead to the Sigil stone, and saw some twenty Dremora standing in a ring around the Sigil stone.

I pressed my back against the tower wall as I shook my head to Caroline, and she inched by me to take a peek herself.

What was going on in Oblivion? We had never encountered such a force before – in fact, the majority of my journeys through Oblivion had been completed by Caroline and I alone! Was it that somehow, Dagon had taken some sort of interest in our journey this time, and had commanded the forces here to overcome us? Was it Mankar Camoran's doing? Or did the realm protect itself, summoning as many beasts required based on the threat we posed?

I tried to shake off my frustration, and watched Caroline, as she signalled to the others how many were before us, and then began pointing at particular soldiers to cover particular entries and exits to the chamber, as there were many. The seven remaining archers moved away to their posts, and I drew my arrow, remaining where I was with Caroline, the four remaining short-range Leyawiin guards, and Kalthar.

Caroline turned to the mage then, and indicated that he ready a spell, as she did the same. I could see by the blue light pooling in Caroline's hand that she was about to attempt the manoeuvre that she had used in previous ventures, and bend the will of one of the daedra to her command.

The release of Kalthar and Caroline's spells was the signal for the archers to fire, and as soon as the light blue and white balls of energy had left our hiding place, I stepped into the doorway and fired my prepared arrow.

The magic hit before my arrow did, and I was grateful to see that Kalthar's magic had taken out one of the number. I wasn't certain of the effect Caroline's spell had had this time, as I ducked back into the hallway surrounding the Sigil stone's chamber, and the remaining short-range fighters ran into the chamber, swords raised. Caroline put a hand on my shoulder, briefly, casting me a steady-look and smile, before she raised her own sword and joined them.

I prepared another arrow, my hands shaking slightly, as the walls of the tower shook as well. So close to the Sigil stone, we could hear nothing but its keening buzz, but I wondered if the building shook in anticipation of what was to come, or from the collective roars of the daedra we had just begun attacking?

Arrow ready, I stepped back into one of the entryways, then leaped back, as an arrow whirred past me. I couldn't tell if it was one of ours or theirs, and in the process of jumping out of its way, I had dropped my own.

Hurriedly, I grabbed for another arrow and readied it, taking a deep breath and telling myself to be _steady_ this time. When I stepped out from behind my cover, I saw our remaining four Leyawiin guards, and Caroline, all within the chamber, fighting with swords and axes against at least two Dremora each. I aimed and fired on one that was closest to me, and since I had not been seen yet, drew and fired again, before remembering that it was too dangerous to continue to stand a fire, whether I had been seen or not, and ran back into the hallway.

I dashed past another of the Leyawiin archers, as he turned and fired from one of the doorways, and I continued running past him and around to an empty entryway; it would do no good to fire from one that had just been fired from, as the daedra would be waiting for me, if the previous shot had been perceived.

I found an uncovered entry, and leaned around the corner, scanning for a target and frowning as I noticed one of the Leyawiin guards rising eerily to their feet, surrounded by glowing magic, then continue fighting with a passive look on their face. So, we had lost another.

I loosed my arrow on a nearby Dremora that was shooting arrows at our short-ranged fighters, then ducked back into the hallway, taking a deep breath and drawing yet another arrow while I pressed my back against the rocky wall and mentally counted how many Dremora I thought remained. Perhaps four or five remained. That meant this was nearly over, as I didn't think – but I couldn't be certain – that we had lost any more archers, and had only seen one short-range fighter being resurrected by Kalthar.

After firing my next arrow, I saw that it was so; Caroline and one of the Leyawiin guards were battling a final Dremora, and the rest had been taken down. They made short work of the final enemy, and I stepped into the room. I put my bow over my shoulder and grinned across the room to Caroline, but she seemed to be out of breath, as she didn't smile back.

I turned to the others as the archers and Kalthar stepped into the chamber, the mage looking as unaffected as ever as he raised his hand and indicated that his resurrected come to him, and _two_ of the remaining short-range fighters and one of the archers stepped toward him, in his thrall.

Stepping toward the Sigil stone, I hesitated and froze as I caught sight of the soldiers moving to Kalthar. The blood drained from my face and turned to ice, despite the unbearable heat of Oblivion. I spun around properly, to face Kalthar and his compliant army of three, as I stared but didn't believe what I was seeing.

 _Caroline._ Caroline was one of the two short-ranged fighters with Kalthar. Caroline – _my Caroline_ – was standing, wavering there, her sword still in her hand and her face a mask.

I staggered toward Kalthar, unable to tear my eyes from her or even blink, as I crossed my brows at her. What was she doing? Surely this was a joke. Caroline was standing with Kalthar as a...poorly thought out joke. I could get mad at her in appropriateness when we got out of Oblivion.

_When is Caroline ever inappropriate?_

I waved a hand in front of her face, then held both hands up in question to her. _What are you doing?_

Kalthar was trying to say something to me, but over the noise of the Sigil stone I couldn't hear it, and I was too focussed on my bodyguard to attempt to understand what he was saying. I stared up into Caroline's familiar grey eyes, searching – begging – that this be a joke; that she be all right, that she was not, in fact, an undead, resurrected by Kalthar after being killed in the fight we had just endured.

Dread filled me as Caroline – the form that looked like Caroline – stared down at me, and I noticed what I hadn't noticed before; the trace of glowing white light, surrounding her like a halo. The blankness of her expression cut me like a blade, and I covered my mouth, letting out a sob that I didn't realise had been so close to the surface.

Someone's hand was on my shoulder then, and I shrugged them off without bothering to see who it was. I uncovered my mouth and reached out to Caroline.

" _Please_?" I asked her, though my words were swallowed by the Sigil stone's noise. I touched her cheek, and she didn't flinch; didn't even react to the contact.

The hand was back on my shoulder, more insistent this time, and I turned swiftly, angry, to face Kalthar. He was motioning toward the Sigil stone, indicating that I should remove it.

My eyes narrowed on the man, so uncaring of the living. This had been _his_ doing.

I shook my head quickly. I couldn't find any words to say to him and truly, it wouldn't have mattered if I had, given the noise of the chamber.

Kalthar motioned to Caroline and the other two resurrected guards, then drew his hands back and held them up, shrugging. Lastly, h moved one of his hands in a sweeping motion, around us, indicating the fallen Dremora. His message was clear enough; _they died, what else could I do, but our foes are fallen._

He indicated the Sigil stone again, beyond us, and after glaring at the hot-white stone for a moment, I turned back to him and shook my head more resolutely.

 _No._ If we left Oblivion now, Caroline would be forever lost. I had not forgotten how the reanimated soldiers had not survived the transition _to_ Oblivion, and I had no doubt that the same would be true for the journey back to Nirn.

The haze that had overcome me when I noticed the ghostly white glow around Caroline's form thickened and tightened around me, and it felt as though time had slowed down as I pointed my index finger at Kalthar, and then at Caroline, and her beautiful, expressionless face. _You fix her._

He shrugged at me, somewhat helplessly, but not without his trademark, somewhat callous, carelessness.

I'm not exactly sure what happened next, as the haze around the corners of my vision completely blinded me. I must have launched myself at Kalthar, and I remember feeling like I was falling, but it was over very quickly and I wasn't fast enough to land any blows to the man before he restrained me and dragged me – us – back up to our feet.

Kalthar glared at me with those hateful brown eyes, pointed to the Sigil stone again, then indicated himself with his thumb. _I will do it if you won't._

I shook my head desperately and pulled against him, struggling to free myself from his grip. He had my hands clasped at the wrist in one of his, so I couldn't point. I nodded fervently to one of the exits to the chamber, that would lead us down and out of the Tower, back to the black plain outside.

Kalthar stared at me a moment; a calculating stare, and I knew he was merely calculating whether or not he had to obey my orders. I finally pulled free of his hand, motioning properly now that we all leave the Tower the way we had come in. The other Leyawiin guards looked too uncertain to move, but I grabbed Kalthar by the sleeve and started hauling him back down the ramp.

I'm not sure why he let me haul him out of the tower, but he did, and his obedient, resurrected fighters trailed after him. Once we were outside of the Tower, with the door closed so we could hear one another speak, I rounded on him.

"You fix this," I demanded to Kalthar, pointing at Caroline.

Kalthar was spluttering in rage. "Fix _what_?"

"This!" I roared at him, waving at those he had resurrected, uncaring if I called all remaining daedra in Oblivion to our position. "Bring her back, Kalthar!"

Kalthar seemed to finally realise something, and started laughing. "Oh, Lady Passero, I _did_ bring her back," he told me.

"Shut up!" I screamed at him, charging for him and drawing the dagger from my sword belt, pointing it at him. "Don't you _dare_ let me hear you laughing again," I grated as the fury swirling inside of me urged me to drive the dagger into his throat.

"I don't know what you think me capable of fixing, but remember -" he fired, "I didn't kill her!" he insisted, holding his palm up to my blade and trying to make me lower it. His eyes flickered from me to the blade, and I dared him to charge a spell.

I scowled up at him, my thoughts at war. No, he didn't kill her – the coward wasn't capable of killing anyone stronger than him. _The daedra in the Sigil stone chamber_ , a sliver of reason pushed its way through the storm within me. _They killed her._

The thought hit me, with a thud to my chest that made me stagger back from Kalthar.

_They killed her, and you didn't even realise it._

I lowered my dagger and turned to look upon Caroline again; the tears pooling in my eyes as she simply stood and waited, motionless.

_This can't be real._

_It_ _ is _ _real._

_But how? When?_

_You were busy fighting. You didn't see anyone fall._

_But - it's Caroline! She can't_ **die** _._

I hadn't realised that I had stepped up to her again, and I found myself crumpled down on the hard, black rocky ground of Oblivion, sobbing at Caroline's feet.

Daedra _were_ attracted by the noise we were making, but they were singular, and taken out by the remainder of the Leyawiin guard or Kalthar, I assumed, as none descended upon me. I barely noticed, as I clung to my bodyguard's legs, my face and tears covered by my hair as I cried.

I don't know how much time passed there, as we were. I lost all sense of time, in the haze of shock and horror that shifted into a weighty, black grief within me. I hugged Caroline's legs tighter, pressing my eyes closed hard so I wouldn't have to see the glow of magic surrounding her which sustained her form.

My thoughts tormented me, insisting that I had caused this; then furious at Caroline's demands to shadow my every move, for she could have been safe in Cloud Ruler Temple at that moment if she had not. I was immediately regretful of the thought because it would have meant I had never been with my valiant friend for these weeks passed; time with her that I was grateful for.

 _We are at war, Sarina,_ my mother's voice snapped at me. I clenched my eyes closed again, feeling the tears leaking down my cheeks. I was coming back to myself, remembering where we were, and I fought it, not wanting to accept the truth.

 _We are at war, and war means those we love can die,_ the voice persisted.

 _But not her,_ I begged.

 _Get up_ , mother's voice commanded. _Get up and leave this place, or her death was for nothing._

The thought of leaving Oblivion – leaving Caroline – brought forth a fresh wave of tears, fuelled by knowing that eventually, I must do as the voice carrying my mother's tone said.

I looked up, from my crumpled heap at Caroline's feet, silently begging, still, that this be some sort of cruel joke.

She was looking down at me, but there was no fondness in her expression; no hint of recognition. She regarded me with a face completely devoid of emotion.

The look did what my inner voice could not; propelled me to my feet, and I scrambled up hurriedly so I could look her in the eye again.

Her eyes followed my movement, but she was otherwise motionless. In the corner of my eye, I caught sight of one of the remaining Leyawiin archers firing on some approaching threat, and Kalthar urgently hissed at me.

"Lady Passero, we _must leave here_ ," he tried to grab my hand.

I shoved him away, without sparing him a look, my gaze glued to Caroline.

I shook my head at her, and couldn't stop the miserable frown from forming on my face. "I am so sorry," I told her thickly, reaching out to her again, this time to cup her cheek with my hand. She didn't react to the contact.

"My beautiful friend, this is so very unfair," I choked, as her unresponsiveness cut into me and I clenched my eyes shut again.

"Lady Passero-!" Kalthar began, but I cut him off.

"Just – give me _one minute more_ ," I said through clenched teeth, trying to force the debilitating grief aside so I could say good bye, as absurd a notion as it was, and opened my eyes again, taking a shaky breath.

"I'm sorry," I repeated to Caroline, my voice wavering still, and my words caught in my throat before I could utter any more.

Inwardly, I cursed myself. How could I find words to sway Counts and Countesses and move an Empire but not be able to find the words worthy to speak to she who had always been there for me? For so long now she had been so much more than my bodyguard; she was my confidant, my sister-in-arms; my dearest friend. She had cared for me since I was a child, protected me, counselled me. After all we had been through together, I couldn't bare the unjustness of this end.

"I love you," was all I could manage, as I lowered my hand and took a step back. "Release her, Kalthar," I told him, without breaking Caroline's grey gaze.

" _What-_?!"

" _Release her_ ," I repeated, steadier and louder than before. "I will not have her disappear in the realm between this one and ours," I turned my head to him, my eyes like daggers. "The realm that Mankar Camoran reaches out to me from within, every time I cross over it. I will _not_ condemn her remains to _his_ realm."

Kalthar stood taller, raising his head imperiously; "As you command."

He flicked his wrist, and I made myself face Caroline once more, for the final time, as my beautiful, brave, strong, precious friend was released from the spell that held her form in thrall. She dissolved in a matter of seconds; turning to a faintly glowing, grey ash.

I stared at it, feeling faint; unable to move.

_She's gone._

Then Kalthar was kneeling next to the ash, rifling through it. My eyes widened in horror.

" _What are you doing?_ " I whispered.

He stood grimly, with her backpack in his hands. "Your bodyguard clearly meant a great deal to you," he threw the pack in my feet, and I stared down at it, blinking dumbly as Kalthar stepped away and out of view again.

"I assumed that you would appreciate my retrieving her personal effects," he continued, then hurriedly added. "Now – can we _leave_ this place?"

His question was laced in disdain and barely-restrained frustration. I crouched down and took Caroline's backpack, testing the feel of the straps between my fingers, before I clasped my hand around them and rose again, shouldering it.

Wordlessly, I stepped past Kalthar and the remaining few Leyawiin guards, and back into the black tower, feeling hollow.

–

" _Are you there, Mankar Camoran?"_

_The white haze remains silent, but I can sense that I am being observed._

" _I know that while you hide from me, you can hear me," I tell him._

_Still, nothing in reply. Something akin to grief douses me, but my formlessness refuses to accept it and the emotions rush around me frantically, like a startled school of fish._

_I note that this means the rush of feelings are mine, and accept that they will soon resettle on me. But for the moment, I am separate from them, and able to be calm._

_I readdress the whiteness, "It is well that you do hide yourself," I tell him serenely. "But one day, very soon, you and I shall meet, face to face."_

_Still no reply. The whiteness starts to dissolve._

" _Make no mistake, Usurper," I continue swiftly, while I have this moment, "that when we do meet, you will die for what you have done."_

_As the whiteness degenerates and the weight of emotion resettles around me in a cloud, waiting to pounce the moment I am reformed, I hear Mankar Camoran's response; a raucous, mocking laughter._


	40. Into the Shadows

The world was still and silent, but for the crunching sound being made by one of the guard's boots as they crossed the charred, ruined ground surrounding the deactivated gate. We had been returned from Oblivion to blackness, and a part of me that was able to think wondered if we had been delivered to another realm, instead of our own. But it was simply that we had been so long in Oblivion that it was now night time, and we were far enough from Leyawiin that there were no lights nearby to brighten the gloom.

Somebody had started a fire, and the soldiers had huddled around it, warming their hands and faces. Some of them ate from provisions they had brought along, and the smells of soup and roasting meat mingled with the slightly sulphuric smell of the Oblivion gate's clearing.

I kept myself apart from the soldiers, and stared up through the empty Oblivion gate, to the stars, dimly noting that the Serpent was visible through the archway. I picked out the shape of the constellation, blinking at the sky. While I stared at one thing, all I could wonder was how it would be possible to continue without Caroline? Though I knew that I would have to find a way.

The crunching sound made by the soldier's boots grew louder and then stopped, and I was aware that they had stopped beside me, and were waiting for me to acknowledge them.

Reminding myself that they had not lost one, but many of their comrades that day, I didn't ignore them or make them wait while I wallowed in my own grief, as though I was the only person who had ever lost anybody. I turned to face the guard; a tall man with a wide, reddish face. I recognised him as one of the archers.

"Yes?" I asked him quietly.

"Lady Passero, I'm sorry. It's just...well," the man flickered a wary glance at the Oblivion gate, then cleared his throat and set his gaze on me again. "What are our orders, my Lady?"

"Oh," I rested my hand on the side of the tall archway, as I turned away from it and faced the handful of Leyawiin soldiers that were waiting around the campfire. Kalthar was sitting not far from them, cleaning one of his fingernails with the tip of his dagger.

 _Caroline always told the soldiers what to do,_ I reminded myself sadly. But I had been present whenever she had relayed orders. I knew what to do; what to say.

I swallowed the lump in my throat as I looked at each of the faces of the soldiers, as my mother's voice reminded me, again, that we were still at war.

 _Fall to pieces now and you make a mockery of all Caroline fought to protect,_ the voice added, which guilted me into speaking at once.

"Leave your heavy weapons, but take the longbows," I told them, a weighty waver in my voice, but at that moment I didn't care how I sounded to anybody, and pressed on. "Go to Bruma," I added simply. "Stop at the nearest settlement you encounter and sell your armour for plainclothes, so that you don't look like soldiers when you arrive. Report to the Chapel for further orders."

The soldiers each seemed to take this in with a silent acceptance, and began reacting; some laying down their arms with a clatter in a pile by the fire; others divesting themselves of parts of their armour.

"What – wait!" Kalthar spluttered; he had been watching the guards and spoke up in disbelief. "That's _it_?" he asked me in a scathing tone. "We fight for our lives through Oblivion for you, and you tell us nothing but 'go to Bruma'?"

"What do you want from me?" I squared the man with a hard look, though I doubted it had any effect, other than to stop him from talking, for he still looked furious. "A reward? A thank you?" I fired at him. "A pat on the back? You are alive, is that not enough?"

He opened his mouth to speak again and I held my hand up swiftly. "No. Enough," I commanded, trying to stop myself from shouting at him more. Arguing with him was futile. "Go to Bruma," I repeated steadily, addressing only Kalthar. "Report to the Chapel. Those are your orders."

Suddenly, their glances and stares and silence was all too much, and now that they had their orders, I realised that could walk away. I turned from the Leyawiin guards and Kalthar, and began to walk back to the place where we had dismounted earlier.

 _Ebony;_ I remembered the horse Caroline had been riding, who was waiting for her. With a heart-wrenching pang, I wondered what I would do with her now, for I had no need of two horses.

"But - what about you?" I heard one of the guards calling after me.

"I have my own orders," I called back, not bothering to stop as I reached the edge of the scorched clearing, and stepped out of view, and into the woods.

I wasn't followed.

Picking a trail through the trees, and focusing on where I placed my feet, I realised suddenly that I was properly alone, for the first time since I had fled the Tower all those months ago. I stopped, feeling overwhelmed, staring up as I leaned against one of the trees for support and looked through the leaves above, yearning to see the sky. I felt so small; so useless. Tears began to form in my eyes and I clenched them closed, taking a deep breath and mustering all the aristocratic training I could find to push down the shock of losing Caroline. I had to be stronger than this, and continue with our task. My task, now.

The tears for Caroline flowed; no amount of training could stop them. All the times I had taken her for granted! I should have told her, at every available opportunity, how much I appreciated her. She had been more of a mother to me than my own mother had ever been; the sister I had never had; my true family, keeping me safe while bringing a brightness to my life.

I shook myself, and inwardly growled that I stop blaming and pitying myself for what had happened to my dear friend. Her death was not all about me and my reaction to it. It didn't matter, what I had done, or not done, not any more. She was all that mattered, and she was gone.

As I cried and tormented myself with my thoughts, I reminded myself that it was the Mythic Dawn who were to blame, for all of this; for everything. They had wrought chaos not only to my life, but also to the lives of all who dwelt in Tamriel.

 _You must fix this_ , I told myself sternly, attempting to break through the tears by scolding myself, though my mother's voice was oddly silent, and the scold carried my own tone for once. _You cannot bring back the dead,_ I continued, as I turned my eyes down and buried my face in my hands. _But you can protect the living, and avenge those lost to Mankar Camoran's sick game._

"But what can I do?" I whispered aloud to any who might be listening and have the power to find me an answer. I was not ready for close-range combat, and even the rage that had overcome me in the Sigil stone chamber had not given me strength enough to land a blow to Kalthar before he had restrained and held me – with only one of his hands!

I uncovered my face and looked around for the answers. The trees sighed in response as a gust of wind rushed through the branches.

 _You can finish this,_ was my answer to myself. _Go to Cheydinhal, then return to Bruma. Go back to Cloud Ruler Temple and decode the second key in the Mysterium Xarxes. Retrieve the Amulet, relight the dragonfires, and do as the Emperor asked – protect Martin._

"Oh, Martin," I sobbed, my tears renewed as the longing for his company merged with my fresh grief. I sank to the ground, my back still pressed against the tree trunk, and missed him; wished for nothing more than to see him, to be near him; for him to hold me close and make the world right again. He would have the words, and the wisdom that I needed to hear, to endure the path I was meant to tread.

 _You want to see Martin again,_ I asked myself? _Then hurry up! Get up! Go to Cheydinhal, finish your quest for allies in Bruma, and return to Cloud Ruler Temple. He is_ **there** _._

I nodded at my own logic, and slowly rose, using the tree for support as I tried to steady my breathing. I straightened my bow on one shoulder and Caroline's backpack on the other. I would take it with me, but I couldn't bare going through the contents of her bag just yet. I clung onto the straps of the pack as I pressed on through the trees, reasoning that if I rode all night, I could be in Cheydinhal sometime tomorrow. If I took both horses, I could alternate riding them, and wouldn't need to stop so frequently to rest them.

Spurred on by the thought of seeing Martin, I broke into a run, and when I reached where Ilaria and Ebony were waiting, I prepared quickly; checking their straps were tight in a rush and securing Caroline's bag to Ebony's back, then taking her halter and attaching it to Ilaria's saddle. I climbed up onto Ilaria and urged her into a walk, and clicked my tongue for Ebony to follow. I wanted to hurry, but breaking two horses who had been resting all day into a canter would be foolish; they'd likely stumble and sprain something, and I didn't want to waste any time that I didn't have to.

I let the horses warm up as I focussed on finding our way back to the Yellow road. We had crossed it, during our walk to the Oblivion gate earlier that day, so I knew it would not be far if I retraced the way we had come.

I'd need to simply follow it all the way across the Nibenay Valley until I was in more familiar territory, and then I could break off from the road prior to reaching the Imperial City and make for the Blue road, which would take me into Cheydinhal.

Planning was a decent distraction. Once we had found the road, and I had eased the horses into a faster trot, I began to plan what I would say to Count Indarys when I reached the castle. The Count had been such an avid supporter of our plight during my address to the Elder Council, and had experienced the perils of the Dawn first hand in the cavern at Lake Arrius, that I was certain he would pledge a large number of his guard to the cause, without needing anything from me in return.

_And if he does want you to close a gate, before he will give you anything?_

I scowled at myself and shook my head, deciding that if I had misjudged the Count, and it was expected that I venture into Oblivion to secure his legions, I would thank him for his hospitality and leave at once for Bruma. _No more Oblivion gates._

Soon enough, I was able to increase the horses pace into a run, and I leaned over Ilaria as I allowed my thoughts to become consumed by the audience I would request with the Count of Cheydinhal, so that I didn't have to think of anything else. I reasoned out every possible scenario I could come up with, and determined my response to each of them; responses that favoured our position and left no room for the Count to delay in making his pledge.

The night was damp and cool this side of the Niben, and I was grateful for the chill to the air as it kept me alert in the saddle. I hurried north, away from Leyawiin, and all I had been forced to leave behind me, unable to think on what had happened or I was afraid that I would simply stop. I couldn't allow that to happen; there was still too much for me to do.

–

Hours after I had begun the journey north, I could bear my combined fatigue and hunger pains no longer. I didn't want to eat anything, and felt sick at the prospect, but after considering that the last meal I had eaten had been breakfast at Leyawiin castle, I told myself that I must, and turned the horses into the corral at the Drunken Dragon Inn. I dismounted and passed the stablehand, a kindly-looking older woman, a few Septims.

"Would you please feed and water them for me, and have them ready to depart within the hour? We have a long journey ahead of us," I bade, as I unstrapped Caroline's backpack from Ebony, unwilling to let it out of my sights.

"You look dead on your feet, little lass," the stablehand said to me, in a voice that seemed to be reserved for grandmotherly-types.

I stilled at her choice of words and forced myself to push the immediate effects of them down, sighing shakily as I shouldered Caroline's bag and turned back to the woman. There was no reason for me to be impolite to her.

"It has been a long day," I replied simply, handing her Ebony's reigns; Ilaria's were already in her hands.

The old woman smiled and motioned toward the main building of the Inn. "You head right on in and see my Andy, an' he'll set up a room for you."

I shook my head. "Thank you, but I don't have time to sleep. Will there be any food ready at this hour?"

She gave me a slightly harder stare, and I noticed tell-tale signs in her expression that she was starting to wonder who I was. "I'm sure we can rustle up something for you," she nodded toward the Inn again. "On you go; I'll take care of these two."

I thanked her again and made for the entrance to the inn. I hesitated at the doorway, my hand extended part way to reach for the handle. Caroline had always negotiated stablehands and innkeepers for me. And now...

I shook my head, frustrated at myself, and opened the door. _You can talk to an innkeeper._

The Drunken Dragon was a tidy inn with a large, roaring fireplace at one end, a bar at the other, and tables in between. The only occupants of the common room were an Imperial Legion soldier sitting at one of the tables with his head hanging over a tankard, and the publican, who I remembered the old woman at the stables had called "her Andy".

From the looks of the man, he was her son, as there were many similarities to their features. He seemed only slightly frustrated when I declined the offer of a room and asked him for food, but his mild annoyance shifted into outright dubiety when I told him that it was my intention to be back on the road within the hour.

"But-" he shook his head, crossing his brows at me - "you can't ride out there, by yourself, at this hour!" he looked me up and down, as he set a goblet of wine that I had ordered down in front of me. "Are you sure I can't persuade you to take the room, lass, even for a few hours, until the sun has risen? Twenty Septims is all-"

"Thank you, but no," I cut him off smoothly, my tone leaving no room for negotiation, as I bore his scrutiny, letting it wash over me rather than feel embarrassed. "Thank you for your concern, but I can take care of myself," I added calmly, giving the publican – Andy – a nod as I took the goblet, then turned away from the bar.

_Since when?_

I ignored the mockery in my own tone, as I cast my eyes around the common room, deciding on where I would sit. Not too close to the fire; it's warmth would likely lull me into a doze. Not too close tot he bar, either, or Andy would continue to push one of the inn's rooms on me.

I began to make my way to a table half way across the room, when I stopped suddenly, then turned to glance at the Imperial soldier; sitting on his own, frowning into his drink, deep in his own thoughts.

 _Sit on your own, and you will have only your thoughts for company,_ I realised, as I took in the sight of him.

I didn't want that. Deciding swiftly, I changed course and moved to the table that the soldier was sitting at.

"May I?" I asked him, indicating the chair beside him.

The officer looked up slowly, frowning still, but it was a frown of apparent confusion. He had consumed little of his drink, I noted, because his eyes were still perfectly clear, though weighed down with sadness. "Excuse me?"

I was still too drained to smile, but I nodded again to the chair. "May I join you?"

The soldier crossed his brows at me, now also suspicious, but kicked at the seat that I was standing closest to. The wooden legs of the chair scraped loudly against the flagstones of the inn's floor, and I sat.

"You're a long way from home," he said to me, taking in my appearance as I settled in the seat and placed the goblet on the table.

"Oh," I looked down at myself. I was wearing the armour the Kvatch people had gifted me, emblazoned with their crest. He must have assumed I was a Kvatch guard. "Yes, I am," I muttered, mostly to myself.

I hadn't sat with the soldier to talk about me. If I let him lead the conversation, I was certain that he would continue asking questions of me; even more so if I told him who I really was.

I held my hand out to him, as though I was a commoner, though I still couldn't smile. "Ilena Vonius," I said, telling him the first name I could think of, then immediately wishing that I had thought of another name, because of course, thinking of Ilend made me think of Caroline.

He shook my hand, his gaze still a little wary. "Stenar Amatius," he introduced himself in turn.

"It's a treat to see one of the Emperor's army on the road these days," I told him, casting about to direct the subject of our conversation to a topic that would focus on him.

"Is it now?" he asked, somewhat morosely.

I pressed on, though I took a warning from his response and watched him a little more closely, as I asked, "Did you come from the City? What is the state of things there? How is Ocat- the High Chancellor managing with the deployment-?"

"You ask a lot of questions for a soldier, Ilena," he cut in, a strained edge to his voice.

The suspicion had never left Stenar's manner, but I was taken aback and closed my mouth, fixing him with a curious expression. Why had he let me sit with him, if not to talk?

"I am as interested in the going ons of the City as the next," I tried to cover, in case the form of my questions had been what had caused him to cut me off.

Stenar craned his neck in a stretch, making me wonder how long he had been sitting alone all of a sudden – and why. "I'm sorry," he sighed. "No, I haven't come from the City, I've been stationed in Stormhold for the past two weeks," he rubbed the back of his hand against his forehead, and looked tiredly into his tankard. "Where were you stationed? Kvatch was demolished months ago," he looked back up, indicating my armour with a nod.

I took a drink of wine as I thought of what to tell him, and settled on the truth. "Leyawiin," I said with a bit of a gasp as I gulped down the mouthful of liquid and put the goblet down.

He _hmphed_ in reply but said nothing, as Andy arrived with my food and set it down in front of me. "Anything else for you?" he asked Stenar while he was there. The soldier simply shook his head.

I took up my cutlery and started automatically eating the Shepherd's pie and carrots that I had ordered, to give my hands and mouth something to do. "What's Stormhold like?" I asked him through mouthfuls, hoping to find _something_ that the man would want to talk about, eventually. "I've never been so far into Black Marsh."

But Stenar just shook his head and, sighing again, got to his feet. "You _really_ don't want to know," he muttered. "Sorry. I'm not a bard to tell you stories, Ilena, and I've been idle for too long as it is."

With those final words, Stenar moved to the bar, placing his tankard and what I assumed was a few Septims down there, then left the Drunken Dragon, without sparing me another glance. I watched his movements, and jumped a little when the door slammed as he closed it behind him.

Had I said something wrong?

I stared down at my food, eating only because I knew I must, and not really tasting any of it, but I was determined to not have to stop for any great length of time again before I reached Cheydinhal, particularly to eat.

"Don't mind him, lass," Andy was at the table, wiping down the place where Stenar had been sitting with a cloth from his apron. I stared up at the publican, and saw him shake his head, casting a furtive glance at the doorway. "The Legion has had it rougher than most during this Oblivion crisis," he finished wiping up the table and lingered, straightening the chair Stenar had occupied.

I swallowed the mouthful of food I'd been chewing and nodded, glad that Andy seemed more inclined to talk now about something other than whether or not I wanted a room made up.

"Do you know why was he here?" I asked him, nodding to the seat he was holding, in case he would stay. Belatedly, I realised that I had sought out the soldier's company, not only because I wanted him to distract me with talk if he would, but also because I hadn't been alone in months, and was neither used to it nor liked it. "He told me he'd been stationed in Stormhold," I continued, trailing off to leave room for the man to continue.

Andy glanced at the bar for a second, before scraping the chair back and taking the seat, tossing his dishcloth down on the thick wooden table before him. "He didn't say much, but it's easy to tell, these days," he cast me a glance, "when someone's fresh out of Oblivion."

I nodded and pursed my lips, looking back down and focusing on my food. I said nothing. Of course, he was trying to lead the conversation back to my story; eager to pick up any information that he could from passers by.

We sat in silence a moment longer as I ate, then Andy sighed and stood. "Are you sure I can't get you that room?" he tried again.

I shook my head, keeping my eyes lowered. "Thank you, but I must be going," I said quietly, placing down my knife and fork, and taking a final sip of the wine.

"As you like, lass," he sighed and wandered back to the bar, and I rose and left the warmth of the inn.

The chilly wind of night, or early morning, as I assumed it now had to be, hit me like a wall, and I hugged my arms around me as I shouldered Caroline's pack, feeling sorry for myself. I hastened to the stable, and before I could start crying at the reminder of how alone I so suddenly was, I buried my mind in a determined, distracting thought and went over, yet again, what I would say to Count Indarys.

I had been over it too many times during the ride already, but could think of no other thought that would occupy me on my journey, without venturing too close to what had passed. All that mattered, right now, was getting to Cheydinhal, and so Cheydinhal, and what awaited me there, was what I had to focus on.

–

So absorbed was I in distracting myself from the failure and loss in Leyawiin that, once back on the Yellow road, I paid little attention to our surrounds, as I should have been doing.

I had no warning of the attack, other than a crackle and whoosh to the air, as a bolt of bright, blueish-white ice magic was fired from the trees beside the road, which coalesced over Ilaria and I swiftly, before I'd even realised we were being attacked. Jauffre's rings yet again spared me from the effects of the spell, but Ilaria was not so lucky, and reared up in a terrified, pain-filled whiney as the frost formed thick on her flank.

Fear gripped me as I hung onto Ilaria's neck reflexively and my thoughts were snapped back to the now. I leaned over Ilaria and pressed her into a faster run as her front hooves touched down on the road again. Ebony leaped forward to match our pace, for she was still attached by the reigns to Ilaria's saddle.

Coming from the tree line, I could hear shouting both behind and in front of us, and made out snatches of words as we raced along.

"- idiots forgot she has the rings!"

"Charm her, before she -!"

"- down her horses -!"

"Mount up!"

"- just _shoot_ her!"

I fumbled with the ties that secured Ebony to us, and threw them away as we rounded a corner, hoping that the black horse would run into the forest and draw them off. But she was better trained than that, and despite all manner of spells being fired toward us, stayed frustratingly close to Ilaria's side.

I tried to turn back and see if I could make out how many were attacking us – but we were simply moving too fast, the skies too dark and the attackers, too well hidden in the shadows of the trees beside the road.

A bundle of roiling sparks tore past my leg, and I leaned Ilaria to one side to avoid being caught by it. At the same moment, I realised that we were too exposed on the road, and angled her further, jumping her over the embankment at the side of the road, and plunging into the trees. Even if we were louder, slower and easier to track in the forest, at least there were trees and rocks that might get in the way of the attackers spells.

Ebony followed after us instantly, but then suddenly darted off to our left, letting out an ear-shattering neigh, which was quickly followed by a human scream.

I pressed myself down firmly onto Ilaria, wondering if Ebony had seen one of the attackers in the forest and had gone to fight them? I didn't think that my mother had requested her horses be given any sort of combat training, but then perhaps in the case of Ebony's breed, it was instinctual?

Another bolt of something that I didn't see hit Ilaria's rear legs then, and she stumbled, shrieking in pain and scrambling to regain her footing. I screamed as she staggered, gripping onto her as she skittered and desperately tried to rise again onto all fours. I realised that if I stayed on her, she would be killed, and that when she toppled, she would trap me under her. Even if she regained her footing, she was too pale; too fair; too easily spotted in the darkness of night. She was being fired upon too frequently; was too afraid. I wasn't certain how many more hits she could take before she fell.

"Ilaria, slow!" I commanded her loudly, clenching my eyes closed and tugging on her reigns as I felt another wave of something, this time warm, flow over me. The rings Jauffre had given me protected me again, but I knew that the spell had been aimed at my poor horse, and I had only felt a fleeting brush of its effects.

I wasn't surprised when she didn't slow her pace straight away, and I told her several more times to do so before she slowed enough for me to grab my bow and leap down out of the saddle.

"Now, run!" I commanded her, patting her to urge her onward, on a part of her flank that wasn't singed from fire, or covered in ice.

She didn't wait for me to tell her again, racing off into the trees, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I would find her later, I told myself with certainty.

Then I heard the sound of hooves beating against the ground, from the opposite direction – from more than one horse - and remembered that I had overheard the command to mount up, when we had been on the road. _They are coming._

I grabbed for an arrow as I set off at a run, in a different direction to the one that Ilaria had taken, hoping that my horse would remain safe while at the same time hoping that she would lead them away from me.

I didn't have to ask who _they_ were. The attack had been too similar to the one on the road to Cheydinhal, when Baurus and I had been disguised with the Count of Cheydinhal, for it to be anyone but the Mythic Dawn. One of their numbers had even mentioned Jauffre's enchanted rings, which of course, during the first attack had helped me to resist the effects of the paralysis spell that had taken out everybody else in our party.

Was it a coincidence that, since leaving Kvatch, the Dawn had apparently stopped hunting me? Or that, not even a day after losing Caroline, they had tracked me down again? Of course it wasn't.

While these thoughts would have brought a not-much-younger me to a weeping standstill, they now caused me to grit my teeth as rage flooded me, melting the fear that had taken hold of me earlier. My blood boiled at their insistence; their timing, and their relentlessness. I seethed as I raced past branches and boulders, crashing through the undergrowth as I inwardly cursed Mankar Camoran, for it must have been he who alerted his devotees to my sudden isolation.

I spotted a cluster of tall boulders in the woods and made for them; turning just in time, as I heard an arrow whiz past me. Without bothering to turn and look for the attacker, or fire back, I raced to the rocks and used a tumble of smaller rocks to one side to scramble up them, determined to lose the Dawn, or at least gain some cover and higher ground, so I could fire back.

I made it to the top of the rocks, my hands covered in scratches, but I didn't feel them as the adrenaline pumped through me. I turned and steadied the arrow in my bow, then scanned the path I had taken to climb up the rocks; bow raised, aimed, and ready to fire.

Several black shapes below were dismounting horses, and scurrying around the rocks; a flare of red lit up one of the shapes momentarily as a ball of flames was cast up, and at me. I stepped aside and let it pass, narrowing my eyes at the agent and firing my arrow at them. They leaped out of the way before it struck, and I dashed off, across the top of the rocks, before they could fire another spell.

The other black shapes – agents – that had been below had been searching for a way to scale the rocks, and I knew that it wouldn't be long before they found the way up. As dangerous as it was to leap across boulders in the black of night, I did it at a run, believing that it would be better if I fell and died out of haste while trying to escape, than to be caught by the Dawn and delivered to either Camoran or Dagon.

The sounds of pursuit met my ears; shouting, more crackles of magic. I looked back quickly and saw a mass of dark shapes on top of the rocks.

_They're here._

Making another quick decision, I changed course on the rocks and leaped across a gap between two, to clamber into a nearby tree, where there was a solid bough that I could fire from. I straddled the branch, locking my legs at the ankle, and raised my bow to fire, fumbling behind me for another arrow.

I drew and aimed at the mass of moving, darker shadow, then fired, and was relieved to see a form detach itself from the mass and fall. I'd hit one of them, and they'd fallen off the rocks. We were high enough that I knew they would not rise again.

 _Unless there's a Conjurer amongst them_ , a dark thought snaked its way through my thoughts.

I shuddered at the memory; too close and too raw to avoid the effects of it. My hands shook as I forced myself to keep going; to keep drawing arrows and firing.

I felled a number of the attackers before they reached the tree I was in. Three robed figures remained, and stopped at the rock edge I had leapt from to land in the tree. I could make out the shapes of their bodies, shrouded in what I assumed were Mythic Dawn robes, but nothing else, as they paused.

"She's trapped herself," one of the number, a female, said, with some satisfaction.

I swallowed thickly, aiming my arrow at one of their number and exhaling slowly.

"Lady Passero!" another one called out to me in a sing-song voice, then laughed. I loosed the arrow I had drawn and the laughter turned into a gurgle, as they dropped and slid off the rock, falling to their death.

"Ward!" the first who had called out commanded the other remaining agent.

I grabbed for another arrow, and realised that the command had been for a spell, and not the other's name, for when I took aim I noticed the golden glow of a shield spell buzzing over and around the other two. The spell lit up the edges of their cloaks and the tips of their fingers.

Despite the spell, I fired, hoping that the ward wouldn't be able to hold against the force of my shot, but the arrow flew through the air and then clattered against the barrier with a small 'clink' noise, before falling to the rocky surface where they stood.

"You waste your arrows, and your time," the other remaining Dawn agent; a male; called out to me. "There are only two ways out of this for you."

I remained silent, reaching behind me to draw another arrow. I would have it ready and waiting, trained on one of them, so that I could fire the moment the ward was released.

"Aren't you tired of running from us, Sarina?" the female agent called out to me, trying reason, though I could hear the impatience in her tone. "Surrender, and you don't have to run any more."

I bit my tongue to keep from answering them, knowing that to engage in conversation would only encourage them. I needed to do one thing; maintain my aim. The moment the ward was dispelled, or expired, I would fire, and then there would only be one Mythic Dawn agent to deal with.

"If we wanted to kill you, you'd already be dead," the male agent called out to me, also attempting reason, though his voice drawled out of him with a sneer that made my heart beat a little faster in my chest. "But you're not dead. Don't you understand?" his voice pitched higher. "You have been spared, by the will of Our Lord! Why do you run from such an honour?"

 _People run when they're being shot at by cloaked cultists in the woods_ , I thought to myself, but remained silent still. I would not give them the satisfaction of a response.

The female agent made an impatient noise, then raised her hand. "Enough of this. You will either come with us, or die in that tree," she spat across the gap to me, and then cast a fire spell.

It wasn't aimed at me, but at the trunk of the tree I had taken cover in, and I watched it catch alight as a choking horror built in me. She maintained her spell, even after the trunk had caught alight, fanning her hands so that the trees either side of the one I was in also caught alight, and the flames spread swiftly along the drier wood and leaves, but crept along the greener parts, creating a thick white smoke that swirled away quickly as the breeze caught hold of it.

I tore my eyes from the flames and turned my attention back to the Mythic Dawn agents, who were still standing behind the ward that the male was maintaining. The heat of the fire tearing along the trees pushed against me and I knew that it would not be long before the fire itself reached me.

The female agent took a step forward; still within the protection of the ward spell, and held out her hands. "Come on, you little fool! Do you want to burn to death?"

 _Stay and burn, jump and die, or surrender to the Mythic Dawn,_ I told myself, not liking any of the choices before me. The bough I was straddling creaked ominously; the whole tree shuddered, and I decided. When two of my alternatives resulted in immediate, painful death, and the latter gave me time to form an escape, I really had no choice; I swiftly returned my arrow to its quiver, and slung my bow over my shoulder.

"Hurry up!" the woman was calling out over the roaring fire that had taken hold of the trees around us, her arms still held out to me. I clenched my eyes closed and took a deep breath, unable to believe what I was about to do.

 _Be calm_ , I heard Caroline's voice in my mind; a whisper, carried by the wind. _You can do this._ The voice stilled my quaking body and I opened my eyes, feeling hazy, as though in a dream, as I climbed up so I was standing on the creaking bough. I pushed against it with the soles of my boots, and leapt across the gap between the flaming tree and the rocks.

As I flew toward the awaiting Mythic Dawn agent's arms, I reached for my sword belt, and before I landed, unsheathed the dagger in it, that I had never used. As the female agent enveloped me in her arms, I plunged the knife forward. The woman had been so occupied with my leap, and with catching me, that she had not seen me draw it. Her eyes widened in shock as she realised what I had done, and I twisted and pushed the dagger into her further.

The force of my landing propelled both of us backward, and she fell down, hard, with me landing on top of her, my legs either side of her waist. I removed and then drove the dagger into her chest again, to the hilt, and glared down at the woman for just a moment. I registered the shock to her angular features, as she coughed; blood spurting from her lips and spraying me; before I leaped up, pulling the dagger out as I rose.

"Jeane!" the male agent cried out, and the ward was dropped immediately.

The wound was fatal but I didn't wait for her to die; I started to dash back across the rocks.

The male agent was faster than me, and after barely three steps a strong hand grabbed my armour, I was flung back, the dagger flying from my hand and clattering onto the rocky surface as I fell into the agent's arms.

The fire was now roaring all around us, and with it's orange light, and at this proximity, I could see that his face was extremely pale and his eyes were glinting with malice from underneath his blood-coloured cloak.

He grabbed both of my arms and shook me. "Got you, you little bitch!" he snarled with a gloating satisfaction.

I kicked him in the shin, hard, and tugged against his restraining hands. He crowed in pain, but his grip didn't falter, though he let go of one of my arms to slap me across the face.

My ears ringed from the blow, and I wavered, stunned, as the agent gripped my wrists together in one hand, then raised my hands up to his eye level, so he could see them. In the haze of the slap, I dimly wondered what he was doing, but didn't wonder long; he grabbed for and tugged at Jauffre's rings on my fingers, nearly tearing my hands off in the process.

I screamed and tried to twist out of his grip again as he tore the rings from one hand and then the other, then was rewarded with another blow; this time, a powerful punch to my stomach. The force of the punch made me double over, and then I dropped to my knees, gasping for air, as a sharp, hot pain tore through where he had hit me.

The agent dragged me back up onto my feet, by the wrists again, making me stand, as he threw the rings away; over the rocks and down onto the earth far below, where the fire cast by his peer had now spread to. He then leered at me with triumph. "Let's see you block spells now!" he raised his free hand to me, covering my face, the palm barely touching my nose. I quaked as I stared at his hand with wide eyes, rendered immobile by his force and anger, at the fear coursing through me, and at the stabbing pain where he had hit me. I was no match in strength to this man, and I had no magical defence of my own to speak of.

 _Calm down_ , Caroline's voice came again, pushing effortlessly through the haze of panic, as I remembered words she had said to me during one of our training sessions. _Think not about what you aren't, but what you_ **are** _; what you_ **do** _have._

The Dawn agent's hand shook before me and I knew that he was restraining himself from casting the spell that he must have wanted to cast. Then he swiftly lowered his hand, to his side, and clenched it into a fist.

"Come on," he said, clearly frustrated. "You've done enough damage," he glared down at me, though it was difficult to make out his eyes from under the hood now. He unclenched his free hand to dig into his robes, and after a moment removed a piece of rope, which he looped tightly around my wrists, uncaring of how rough he was or how the much coarse rope cut into my skin. I bit my bottom lip to keep from crying out at the pain he was causing me; despite the situation, I was determined to not respond to him if I could help it.

"Time for you to be _delivered_ to our Lord Dagon," he finished tying the rope as his mouth curled a cruel half-smirk at me.

 _He won't kill me while his masters want me alive,_ I reminded myself, forcing myself to see that there was still hope _._

He turned abruptly and began to tow me after him by the rope that now bound my wrists. I jerked into action, hurrying to match the man's pace, so I wouldn't be dragged along the rock face.

It took me another second to remember the memory of Caroline's teaching, and take stock of what I _did_ have, as little use as it was to me; I had my bow, but I couldn't reach it or use it with bound hands. I had use of my legs, even if I lacked the force I needed to overpower the agent.

I cast my eyes around desperately, looking for anything that could be of use, as the panic started to rise in me again. I couldn't see any way out of this.

 _Your environment, then_ , the Caroline-voice urged hurriedly.

_Dark night, rocky surface, a few burning trees at the edge._

_The edge_ , I repeated to myself. _We will reach it, soon, and you will both need to climb down. He will either have to carry you, or unbind your hands._

I nodded, grabbing hold of this thought, as I was lurched forward again as the agent tugged on the rope.

"Hurry up," he muttered.

I stared at the back of his head, mustering my strength to do what needed to be done, knowing that if I misjudged anything, I'd likely fall to my death.

We reached the edge of the rocks, where both I and the agents after me had ascended, and the Dawn agent pulled the rope he was leading me by hard, and held it up, so that I crashed forward into his chest, my tip-toes barely touching the rock beneath our feet.

"Now, you listen to me," he told me in a low, threatening voice. "You're going to climb down, and if you try to run," he raised the hand that wasn't holding the rope, palm to my nose again. "You will be paralysed, and punished, all while you are unable to scream, or move, or stop me," he promised, then lowered his hand, his warning delivered.

I struggled a little, trying to touch the rocks with my feet so I wasn't helplessly dangling in his grasp. "You can't kill me," I reminded him in a strained voice.

He smirked again, letting go of the rope that he held aloft, and catching me around the waist as I dropped, holding me close to him for a moment. The fire, roaring in the trees around us, cast a bright, orange glow around his darkened form.

"Who said anything about killing, little whore?" he pressed his lower-half against me, then leaned his head forward, burying his face in my neck. I whimpered and tried to lean back but his arms held me firmly against him as I felt wetness on my skin. He trailed his tongue up my neck, then nipped at me with his teeth when he reached my pulse point. I jumped, unable to stop from letting out another cry of alarm.

The immobility of fear overcame me as he raised his head and glared down at me, and watched me closely for the effect his threats had on me. I stared, wordless and wide-eyed, up into the hateful, glinting eyes, trying to convince myself that he was bluffing. I had been told that Dagon wanted all of me, as I was. This agent couldn't kill or maim me, or, as Ruma Camoran had said in the cavern at Lake Arrius, 'sully' me. The last time I had been captured by the Dawn, they had _healed_ me, during their preparations.

 _Oh_. He could do almost anything to me, and then heal me before I was delivered to his masters. That was why he hadn't hesitated in punching or slapping me. With a thud of realisation, my lip wavered and tears of desperation began to pool in my eyes. The agent's cruel slit of a mouth curved from a smirk into a wider, nasty grin, as he took in my response.

"I see that we understand one another," he sneered. Then, without warning, he spat in my face. I closed my eyes just as the saliva sprayed over my cheek and eyelid, and the Dawn agent laughed, turning me around, as I raised my bound hands to wipe the spittle away.

I opened my eyes to see that I was now at the start of the tumble of rocks we had ascended earlier, with the Dawn agent's hand grasping my shoulder. "Now, be a good girl, and climb," he instructed in a mocking voice.

I half turned, holding up my bound hands to him. "How?" I said hoarsely, through the blur of tears. I hated how small my voice sounded; how desperate, but there was little I could do about it.

"Carefully," he commanded in a droll voice.

On shaking legs, I turned back around and took a deep breath as I looked down over the edge at the rocks, and around at the trees, that were still burning as more caught alight. Smoke wafted over me and stung my watery eyes, and I winced at the dull pain that breathing deeply caused. I crouched, and leaned against a rock with my bound hands, awkwardly angling myself to sit and then slipping down into a standing position on a rock at the next level.

The Dawn agent was right behind me, and too close; clearly not wanting me to move very far ahead of him, but also making it difficult to manoeuvre properly, bound hands or not. I ignored how he pressed against me again, in a mocking reminder of his threat, but I couldn't avoid sliding down his front so that I could sit again, ready to slip down again to the next nearest rock. I hesitated, as I realised that I had an opportunity, right now, to be free of him, if I was quick, and careful.

The Dawn agent's boots and legs were pressed into my back; I turned from where I was sitting to look up at him. The hood was angled downward and filled with shadow at this angle, but he was clearly staring at me, watching motionless for what I would do.

 _One chance_ , I told myself, in an attempt to rally my courage.

In the act of sliding down from the rock I was sitting on, to the next, I turned so that I was on my belly. The pain in my chest blazed and stabbed at me, but I bore it soundlessly as I reached my bound hands out, as though to grip hold of the rock, but instead of doing so reached for the Mythic Dawn agent's ankles. I grabbed one of them with both of my hands, gripping hard, and pulled as I continued sliding down off the rock.

The man cried out as my falling weight and grip left him nowhere to go but down with me, and with nothing to grip onto, I fell down onto the next rock, crashing onto my back, crying out in pain when the air was pushed from my lungs with another burning stab.

He flailed a little, and then his head crashed onto the rock we had both previously been on with a _CRACK_ , and he toppled down to my level. Panic assailed me; he landed on top of me before I could move. I struggled with pushes and kicks; and he was stunned enough from hitting his head that before he had regained his senses, I was able to heave him off me, and send him tumbling down the rocky expanse.

Gasping through a blur of unshed tears that stung with smoke from the fires, I turned onto my stomach, again ignoring the pain in my chest. I watched as his body bounced and slid and fell from rock to rock.

He didn't make a sound, but I couldn't be certain that he was dead, and when he stopped falling, wedged between two rocks close to the bottom of the climb, I stayed very still, with my eyes glued to the shadow cast there, certain that at any moment he would leap up and cast a paralysis spell at me.

I let the tears that had been forming from the fear and threats he'd given me fall, but forced myself to remain silent as I watched for signs of movement, too afraid to move, or even blink.

I remained on that rock as the fires burned out all that would burn in the vicinity, and roared off, fuelled by the morning winds, toward the trees that lead back to the Yellow road.

The sun rose. I stared down into the shadow where the Dawn agent had fallen one more time, and then told myself that, whether he was dead or not, it was time to move, before somebody else came looking for me.


	41. The Unexpected

Ebony stepped out from behind the burnt trees to meet me as I reached the bottom of the rocky outcropping. She clopped toward me, lowering her head as we approached one another.

I couldn't help but smile with relief, panting from pain and exertion as I reached my bound hands out, wondering if she was some sort of beautiful dream, so relieved I was to see her. Caroline's pack was still secured to her saddle, and the black horse seemed perfectly fine, apart from a few singe marks on her coat and ash in her mane and tail.

"Where is Ilaria?" I asked her, my voice scratchy as I wound my fingers into Ebony's mane, then stared around at the devastated, blackened woods. The smell of smoke was thick in the air and I wrinkled my nose as I turned back to look over the horse again in wonder. How had she escaped the Dawn, and the fire?

I wasn't sure I would be able to with my hands bound, but tried to mount up anyway, and cursed as the fiery pain of whatever injury the Dawn agent had done with his punch tore through me again. A broken rib, I guessed, though having no medical knowledge, there was no way to be certain of how much physical damage he had done to me, or what the pain meant.

 _Get to Cheydinhal. Someone at the Chapel can heal you,_ I instructed myself.

Ebony whickered at me as she pawed the blackened ground with a single hoof.

I nodded, understanding; she was getting impatient, and wanted to leave. I couldn't blame her. "Lay down."

Ebony knelt on all fours, and I slid onto the saddle, telling myself with some determination that Ilaria must have survived the night; that she had simply run too far during her escape to come back easily to me. I devised an alibi for her; telling myself that she would have taken refuge in a stable, where some bemused farmhand would find her today, and wonder at her sudden appearance.

 _Please, let her be all right,_ I thought to the skies, as Ebony rose to her full height. I eased my heels into her flank, holding on with my knees as I raised my bound hands to my mouth, and tried to untie the rope with my teeth. After several futile minutes I lowered my hands and sighed, taking the reigns, despite being bound at the wrists. I gripped the straps in my fingers, and resolved to find something sharp to cut the rope with later, as a mocking voice in my mind reminded me that I could have been cutting through the bindings with a rock while I had been staring all night at the shadowed place where the Dawn agent had fallen.

I shuddered at the memory of the night that had passed, and determined that I had to push what had happened out of my mind, yet again. There was no reason to dwell on it.

An image of Caroline tucking me into bed at one of the castles pushed itself on me, and I shook away the tears that it brought with it. _If Caroline had been here..._

 _No. Just no,_ I commanded myself to stop.

"We'll have to stay clear of the road," I rasped to Ebony, and coughed a little, as the smokey smell of charred forest overwhelmed my senses. It was a calm day, without a cloud in the sky, but the trees were blackened and the earth, scorched; the sight reminding me all too much of Oblivion. I stared around the ruined woods we were ambling through, wondering how it could have been devastated so swiftly.

 _They would turn our world into theirs,_ I thought sadly.

Though weary, I forced myself to pay attention to where we were this time, using the pain in my ribs to keep me alert, and angling Ebony away from the Yellow road any time we drew too near to it. My eyes felt scratchy and dry, and stung from the smokey remains of the woods, but I stared around us, wide-eyed and determined to stay awake.

After a few hours of riding this way, the world around us grew warmer as the sun moved across the skies. The Yellow road turned sharply westward, and I lead Ebony east; following the Corbolo river, which I knew would take us close to Cheydinhal. The fire must have been put out by something, or someone, because the trees were once again healthy and green, and the leaf litter and ferns were thick on the ground. The terrain grew steeper as Ebony effortlessly picked out our trail.

I couldn't help but close my eyes in relief then, as I deeply breathed in the fresh air, then winced as the pain in my chest reminded me that it was there. Reaching for my side gingerly, I gripped the edge of my armour and undershirt and raised both to inspect the area that was the source of the stabbing feelings.

I gasped as I stared down at the swollen, angry purpled bruise that had flowered on my side, and lowered my undershirt hastily. The Kvatch armour fell down over the top of it, chinking softly as it resettled.

I needed healing. Or a potion. _Something_ , I decided. _If only Martin were here._

"Whoa, Ebony," I pulled the reigns back gently, and then commanded the horse to get down on all fours again, so I could slide out of the saddle. Turning back to the horse immediately, I decided that I had no choice but to rifle through Caroline's belongings, in the hope that she had a healing potion stashed away amongst her possessions.

Trying to detach myself from what I was doing, I awkwardly untied the pack, then told Ebony she could rise again. I wandered to a nearby tree, sitting down gingerly and then leaning against it for support. Ebony moved away to a little patch of nearby green grass, and began to graze noisily.

I let her be, focusing on the task at hand. I sighed at the pack and worked on unfastening it, my breath shaky as I exhaled, and not entirely from my injury.

The first item I came across in her bag was a silver dagger. Caroline's Blades dagger. Just like the one she had given me, all those months ago in the Tower during our escape.

I held the small, silvery blade up by the handle, and stared at it, as tears formed in the corners of my eyes. A memory of a morning at Cloud Ruler Temple with her flooded me with a fresh wave of grief.

_"You keep it, my Lady," Caroline indicated the side of her boot, and I could see that there was a dagger sheathed in it already. "I have a replacement."_

Angling the dagger carefully in my fingertips, I used it to saw through my bindings. Soon enough they split. I shook my hands as the remains of the rope fell to the ground, and placed the dagger next to me.

I stared down at my hands and wrists for a moment, which were rubbed raw in places and bruised in others. My palms were covered in dirty scratches, blood and ash.

Turning my hands over, there was only more scratches, dirt, ash and blood, and all of my fingernails were jagged and filthy. The tears that had welled at the memory of Caroline began to fall, and I hurriedly turned back to the bag, scolding myself for making every little simple task a trial full of sentimentality. I could wallow in grief later! _Get on with it!_

Now that my hands were unbound, I was able to unstrap my quiver from my back, and I let the container, which was now empty, fall to the earth beside me. The arrows must have all fallen out during the struggle on the rocks. I couldn't even recall what had happened to my bow.

No sooner had I reached back into the pack, and started peering into it to see if I could find a healing potion, that I heard voices.

I sat up straight and stilled, listening for the sound again. A bird called out in the tree above me, and I turned my eyes up to the leaves, willing it to be silent.

Then – _there_ – the sound came again. Voices. People. Drawing closer, I was certain of it.

I couldn't make out what they were saying, but it didn't matter.

Using the tree to help me rise, I grabbed Caroline's bag and dagger, and ran for Ebony, ignoring the pain that the sudden movements caused me.

"Ebony!" I hissed to her hurriedly as I approached. The horse raised her head and stared at me with a mouthful of grass, completely unfazed.

As I scrambled for the reigns, I realised that I could hear the sound of hooves, beating against the earth. I strained my ears as I mounted up, again ignoring the pain that tore through me out of sheer terror, and kicked Ebony into a run. She jolted forward.

I wasn't ready. I grasped for the reigns again as I slid sideways in the saddle; I'd propelled her into a run before I'd put my boots in the stirrups.

The sounds of approach grew louder, and panic of being captured overtook all my other senses.

"Wait – Ebony – whoa!" I cried out desperately, pulling back hard on the reigns sharply.

Ebony whinnied in protest. Clearly confused by my conflicting commands one straight after the other, Ebony's head turned to the side as I pulled the reigns back again. Her front hooves left the ground as she reared up from the suddenness of my command to halt, as her momentum carried us forward.

The change in angle was all it took for me to slide completely off the saddle, and I lost my hold on her reigns as I slid back and landed hard on my side. I heard loud _CRACK_ , as my leg struck a rock. The pain from the fall was immense; doubled no doubt by the injuries already inflicted upon me and I couldn't help but cry out from it.

I grabbed my leg, where it must have been broken, and winced as I tried to scramble up, but it was no use. Tears of pain and fear and desperation flowed freely as my heart raced. I clenched my eyes closed, telling myself to breathe, as the sound of those approaching, who in my head were the Mythic Dawn searching for me still, grew ever louder.

I clawed my way to a tree, biting my lip to keep from crying out, and propped myself against it, trying to hide behind a clump of ferns and a small rock.

 _If you aren't captured and taken in this time,_ I told myself, _you'll die out here on your own._

"Shut up," I hissed as I gritted my teeth and reached for Caroline's dagger, grasping it in my hand; the only weapon I had available to me. I was afraid, and ashamed – so ashamed – of how incredibly useless I was on my own. Not even two days had passed since Caroline had passed away, and I was _not_ coping.

 _You can't do this without Caroline_ , my thoughts tormented me. _You are nothing, without her._

"I have no choice," I whispered aloud, again. _Now, shut up,_ I commanded myself.

Those approaching reached the place where Ebony was standing uncertainly, waiting for further instruction. I stared up from where I rested, relieved at once to note that they were _not_ wearing the trademark blood-red cloaks of the Dawn.

There were four of them; one in shining silver plate armour, and the other three wearing the colours of Cheydinhal, with the knotted green and gold sigil of the region splayed across their cuirasses. _Cheydinhal guard._

I was about to call out to them for help, but a thought stopped me and I closed my mouth at once.

 _When they've not been wearing their robes, the Mythic Dawn have posed as soldiers._ First in Bruma, as spies, and then in Kvatch, the morning I had been training with Caroline. I pressed into the tree, shrinking back and wishing that I was invisible, but there was no way that they could not see me, if they were searching for me.

The four dismounted, and the one wearing silver plate armour swiftly approached Ebony, taking her reigns.

"It's one of her horses, to be sure," he said imperiously, and turned, frowning, to look around the area. "She can't be far."

I frowned as well, as I looked up at a face that I thought I recognised; Dunmer, proud, with a shock of thick, chin-length, black hair, proud red eyes and full, pouty lips. I tried to place the face as one of the accompanying soldiers spoke up.

"Why would she leave her horse here?" he asked.

The Dunmer flashed the guard an amused, haughty stare. "Why does a woman do anything?"

At once, I realised who it was I was looking at; the handsome, but proud son of the Count of Cheydinhal; Farwil Indarys. He had grown since I had last seen him, but his voice still carried the same cavalier tone.

"I'm here," I called out to them, wincing slightly at the gravelly sound that issued from my dry throat. I tried to clear it, as the four who had dismounted turned and saw me at once. The three Cheydinhal guards rushed to me straight away, but Farwil remained where he was, frowning down at me while he held Ebony's reigns.

"Sarina, is that _you_?" he asked suspiciously. "Whatever are you doing on the ground, under a tree-?"

"She's injured," one of the guards, a short Bosmer female with bright red hair, knelt down to me and bowed her head quickly, seemingly ignoring Farwil. "My Lady, can you walk? We have a healer, back at the camp, who can tend to your wounds."

I tore my eyes from Farwil's assessing gaze, knowing that he must have been comparing me now to the last time we had met, when I would have presented a much finer, fairer image to him. I shook my head at the guard next to me. "I'm sorry, I don't think I can walk," I pointed to the leg that burned with pain. "I think it's broken," my voice quavered.

"Here," she said, motioning to the other guards swiftly. "We can carry you. It's not far, I promise."

"Thank you," I gasped and winced as the largest of the Cheydinhal company helped me to my feet, and then picked me up, cradling me so that there was no pressure on my broken leg, or the bruise on my front. I sagged against him like a rag-doll, a part of me feeling ashamed of my weakness when Cyrodiil was calling me a Hero, but I felt like bursting into relieved tears as I was carried toward Ebony and Farwil, the latter watching our approach with interest now, instead of wariness.

"Lord Farwil," I barely remembered myself, "I am relieved, and honoured," I made sure I bowed my head a little, though I was unable to give him the curtsy that befitted his status from where I was.

"Yes, well," he said, somewhat dismissively, and when I turned my eyes back up to him, he had taken a few steps away, in the direction they had approached from, leading Ebony behind him. "You may thank me when you no longer smell like ash and look like death."

The soldier helping me turned to follow after him and I heard the red-headed guard who had knelt to me sigh a little after him, though not loud enough for him to perceive it. I couldn't stop the flush that rose on my neck and cheeks, despite everything else. I _was_ a mess.

We proceeded in silence for a few minutes; the occasional chink of armour and the crunching of the soldiers boots on the leaves and undergrowth the only sounds for a time.

So overcome by relief and fatigue, I tried to not sink into the guard's arms for a while, before I made eye-contact with the man carrying me. He was a Redguard with a wide face, dark skin and lively, deep brown eyes. I blinked slowly up at him, feeling a haze of sleep pressing down on me, and I knew that it was futile for me to resist it for much longer.

"I'm sorry," I said to him quietly, unsure exactly what I was apologising for, as the warmth of his arms and body, and the rolling sway of his pace, began to lull me into a doze.

He shook his head, as he quirked a half-smile, and I heard his reply through a daze, as though he was speaking to me from a great distance. "Don't be sorry, my Lady. It's not every day you get to carry the future Empress of Tamriel."

I was certain I had misheard him, as the sleep that I so dearly needed claimed me.

–

When I woke, it was to muted candlelight casting its orange glow on a featureless brown canvas wall, and the soft, tinkling sound that accompanied healing spells. I could no longer smell smoke everywhere, and while my throat felt slightly dry and my eyes a little grainy, I felt fresh and clean. I was no longer wearing my armour, but couldn't see what I _was_ wearing, underneath the sheet that was over me. From the feel of the garment against my skin, it was soft cotton.

A pair of thin hands were on my abdomen, healing me on top of the sheet. I blinked blearily, as my vision swam and I regained full consciousness. I turned to see who was healing me; an Altmer woman of about thirty years, perhaps a little older, with long, dark blonde hair tied back loosely in a braid. There were creases around her kind brown eyes and mouth that told me that she smiled a lot.

I straight away felt more at ease. Her eyes flickered up from where they had been focused on her hands, to catch my gaze. "Good afternoon, my Lady," she said in a quiet, gentle voice. "Do you feel any pain, anywhere?"

I shook my head slightly, then realised I was just staring dumbly at her, and cleared my throat. "No," I responded quietly; my voice was still gravelly and a desperate thirst descended upon me.

The healer must have noticed because she went from casting her spell with both hands to using only one, and used her now-free hand to wet my lips with water from a cloth.

I accepted the moisture gratefully and swallowed thickly; it tasted cool and sweet.

"I know you would like more to drink," she told me in her measured tone, "but your system has undergone a significant amount of stress and if you gulp down water right now, you will only bring it straight back up," she warned.

Simply staring at the woman as she replaced the cloth somewhere and then returned to healing me with both hands, I asked, "Who are you?"

She cast me another glance, smiling easily. "Ohtesse. I'm a priest, from the Great Chapel of Arkay, in Cheydinhal," she replied dutifully.

"Cheydinhal," I repeated as I turned my head back to rest on the pillow under it, and looked at the roof of what seemed to be a large, canvas tent. At once, I remembered who had found me; Farwil Indarys, and three Cheydinhal guards. "Are we in Cheydinhal?" I frowned up at the roof.

"No," Ohtesse sighed, but not out of impatience; more from a sort of weariness, as she stopped casting the glowing golden spell on me, and reached behind herself for something. "I'm afraid we're out in the wilds," she turned back fully, holding a large woollen blanket, and smiled reassuringly. "But don't fear. You're safe, and when you are rested, we are but two day's ride from Bruma," her smile widened, and her eyes shone as she tucked the blanket around me, then added. "Perhaps less time, depending on how fast one rides, though I wouldn't recommend riding at a pace that makes you fall again, so soon after your leg has been healed."

"Oh," I blinked again, as I stared down at my leg that had been broken in my panic-induced failed attempt to flee those that had seemingly sought to rescue me. It was elevated slightly, by another pillow underneath it. I felt no pain from it, and thought that it must have been healed first, while I had slept. I hadn't even realised Ohtesse had done anything. Perhaps I hadn't been asleep, but had passed out?

Ohtesse rose and inclined her head. "Is there anything else you need, my Lady?" she asked me. "Otherwise I would like to leave you to rest."

I registered all that she had said a moment earlier finally, and tried to sit up a little. "Wait, no – please, Ohtesse – Bruma?" I fumbled for words. "No. How far are we from Cheydinhal? I need to see the Count..." I trailed off.

Ohtesse wore a secretive smile as she raised her head. "There is no need, my Lady," she told me. "I believe Lord Indarys is determined to talk to you about that," she added with a small, barely discernible roll of her eyes. "Shall I tell him you are well enough to see him?" she asked me, as she made to leave.

I lay my head back on the pillow, giving up on trying to rise, and shook my head. I wasn't certain I could manage an audience with Farwil just yet, particularly after his attitude toward me in the woods.

"That is quite sensible," Ohtesse replied, an edge of laughter in her voice, and I heard that she was moving to leave.

I glanced at her, wondering if I was going to be left alone, as I watched her pick up a small satchel of her healing things, and sling it over her shoulder.

"I shall not be far, and I shall return in a few hours," she promised me as she turned to the canvas flap that was the tent doorway, then she hesitated, and turned back to me. "There are guards posted outside, who can summon me immediately if you wake sooner," she added. "I would recommend you sleep, before you try to rise or eat anything," she continued gently. "And remember what I said about the water."

I nodded, idly wondering where my urgency to complete the quest for allies had fled to; all I wished to do at that moment _was_ sleep. I thanked Ohtesse as she left the tent, and then closed my eyes, as a small part of me worried that I was dreaming, and that when I next woke, I would be back on that rock with my hands bound, surrounded by burnt forest.

Not even these thoughts could keep me awake, though, and as I sank into a deep sleep I wondered if Ohtesse had dribbled a sleep draught into my mouth earlier, not water.

–

The next time I woke, Ohtesse was healing me again. I stared up at her, wondering what she was doing; I had felt no pain before I had slept, and felt no pain now.

"It's all right," she told me quietly as she noticed I was watching her. She allowed the magic to dissipate then reached behind me, to help me sit up.

"Am I unwell?" I asked her directly, quietly, my voice still thick and gravelly.

The Altmer hesitated and then plumped a pillow up behind me. "Not exactly, my Lady," she then handed me a cup of water.

"Please," I took the cup gratefully, but held it while I watched her for a response, as my mind flew to the injuries I had sustained and told me that some of the damage must have been permanent. "Tell me."

"Oh, I'm sorry –" she blinked as she re-settled herself by my side. "There is no need for concern," her voice lightened noticeably, and I couldn't detect any hint of feign in her tone. "It is only your emotional pains that I was endeavouring to heal, which will fatigue you further if left unattended."

I had raised the cup to my lips, and let the wetness touch them, but lowered it at her answer, as I took in what she had said.

 _She means your grief for Caroline,_ I told myself.

Ohtesse fidgeted a little, and then her smile was back. "Please, my Lady; have a drink. You should be able to manage it now."

I did as she bade, lifting the cup again, and sniffed; it didn't smell like anything, so I took a sip. Cool, fresh water.

 _So, is Caroline's memory to be magicked away,_ I asked myself crossly? I drank slowly, savouring the water as the liquid ran over my dry throat.

Lowering the cup and staring into it, I warred with myself further; _It's the grief that would weigh you down that she heals; nothing could make you forget Caroline._

Vaguely, I remembered that Martin had, at Rosethorn Hall, eased the grief I had been feeling for Ebel, without even knowing what he did. Had his spell made me forget who Ebel was? Of course not. And it would be silly of me to refuse healing, essentially to spite myself. Caroline was gone; she would not want me wasting away over her death, if what Ohtesse said about it fatiguing me further was true.

A part of me realised that I was able to think these thoughts and come to this conclusion _because_ of Ohtesse's work on healing the grief I had bottled up, but perhaps, right now, it was for the best that I wasn't allowed to remain caught between wallowing and trying to distract myself from thinking about what had happened. It had nearly gotten me killed.

"Thank you," I handed Ohtesse the half-empty cup, and gave her a smile that was weaker than I would have liked, so that she wouldn't think I was ungrateful. "For everything; really," I insisted.

Her smile and easy manner was renewed at this, I was glad to see, and she bowed her head again as she took the cup, then rose. "It is my honour. Now my Lady," she continued immediately, "Lord Indarys is eager to speak with you, if you are felling well enough."

"Oh – of course," I tried not to sigh as I remembered Count Indarys' arrogant son, and wondered what his part in this rescue, or whatever I was a part of, was, and why he was insisting to tell me about it personally. Despite being the same age, we had never spoken in Court, having entirely nothing in common with one another. My teachings of Farwil had alerted me well enough to the man's nature; proud, dramatic and spoiled by his father; so I had never endeavoured to make a connection.

"Very good," Ohtesse dipped a curtsy as she left the tent, and I straightened myself, marvelling at being able to move without feeling some sort of stabbing pain any longer. I lifted the loose cotton dress I had been dressed in out from my chest, to look down to where the enormous, angry bruise had previously been, and was relieved to see nothing but smooth skin.

"Ah, you're looking _much_ better, Lady Passero!" Farwil's voice rang out as the tent flap was thrown aside.

I hastily smoothed the dress back down over my chest and turned my eyes up, smiling simply at the man. His sharp, red eyes flickered to my chest for a moment, so I knew that he must have seen me staring down the neck of the dress and was probably wondering what I had been doing, but I left him to his own imagination and lowered my head to him respectfully.

"Lord Indarys, I am indebted to you," I kept my eyes lowered, mentally counting the seconds to make my makeshift bow last the required amount of time for our difference in station. Whether it was required of me or not, in the present situation, it helped me to enter into the frame of mind that was expected of me.

I noticed that he came to a stop at the end of the palette I had been sleeping on, and turned my eyes up to him.

I was grateful that I had taken the time to prepare myself; otherwise I might have startled at the unguarded assessment I saw in his ruby-red gaze. I bore the brief examination as I reminded myself calmly that I was used to people looking at me, and that he was likely, quite simply, wondering how I could be both the Hero of Kvatch and the pampered noble girl he had heard of throughout his youth.

"As much as I would like to claim the glory for your rescue," Farwil replied in a voice laden with pageantry, "full credit must be given to the Emperor for it."

The way he was watching me; closely, for any sign of reaction; made me double my efforts to remain unfazed by anything he said. I recalled from my teachings that Farwil had a flair for the dramatic; that he constantly endeavoured to make a show of everything he involved himself in.

"The Emperor?" I asked, in as measured a tone as I could, though both my mind and heart began to race at the mention of Martin's involvement. "I am not certain of what you mean?"

This was enough to give him what he wanted without betraying myself; the corner of Farwil's mouth curved into a smirk, as he turned from the end of my bed and took a step to the table against the side of the tent, leaning against it casually.

"I'm certain that you _do_ know what I mean, Sarina," he dropped my title, as was his right, though I bristled at the presumptuous confidence he was exuding, given that it was at my expense.

My concern for how _Martin_ could somehow be responsible for my rescue weighed more than the desire to remain nonchalant in his presence, I decided. I pushed my facade aside as I turned a little, so I was facing Farwil again.

"Have you seen him?" I asked quietly, having to know if Martin had, for whatever reason, left Cloud Ruler Temple. "Is he safe?"

Farwil was, again, satisfied with my response, it seemed. "There we are. Was that so difficult?" his smirk doubled. "You _are_ in love with him."

"Please, I beg you," I cut in quickly, closing my eyes to stop from snapping, wanting to shake Farwil into answering me directly. "Tell me, what has happened?"

"Patience, Sarina," Farwil quirked an eyebrow at me. "There is much to tell, but don't distress yourself. He is safe, so I assume."

The urge to shake the frustrating man doubled as I forced back on a mask of composure, and made myself nod to him. There was no use in rushing him to tell me what I needed to know; that he had said Martin was safe would have to satisfy me for now. I only had to endure the story, the way he desired to tell it to me, to hear the details of what I needed to know.

"Your forgiveness, my Lord," I said, somewhat unnecessarily, but I decided that, as much as any other noble I had visited in Cyrodiil, I needed to keep Farwil Indarys on side. "It has been a frightening few days and I forgot myself."

"I can only imagine," he responded, in a somewhat quieter, more sympathetic voice. "And, as I am entirely at your service, for the time being," he made a show of bowing elaborately to me, "I shall keep you in suspense no longer."

 _At my service_ , I wondered incredulously, as I reacted to his show with merely a curious smile. _What is going on?_

Farwil rose and leaned on the edge of the table again; the candlelight flickering over his silvery armour as he shifted. "It is the truth, what I told you; the Emperor is who you need to thank for your being recovered when you were," his eyes flickered over my appearance again, still apparently searching for something, though I was too focused on what he was telling me to care this time, and nodded earnestly for him to continue.

"About four days ago, my father received a rather surprising letter from the Emperor, Martin Septim," Farwil sighed, turning his eyes away from me, to rove over the tent. "It was a request for a portion of the Cheydinhal guard to be sent into the wilds, to search for, as he put it," Farwil squared me with an expectant look, suddenly, and raised an eyebrow; "the future Empress of Tamriel."

I drew a breath at this, and dimly remembered that the guard who had carried me from where they had found me in the forest had called me that, too.

Farwil huffed as his persistent smirk curled upwards some more, and he raised his eyebrows at me, waiting for something; confirmation, I supposed.

Wanting to draw focus away from the point that had clearly interested Farwil more than any other, I swiftly asked him, "Did the letter say how he could have known that I was in danger?"

Farwil shrugged. "It didn't. One would assume he has inherited his father's Gift of foresight," he drawled.

Closing my eyes again, I realised; of course, it was the _only_ way that Martin could have known _anything_ about the situation I would find myself in, given that Farwil had said the letter had arrived in Cheydinhal four days earlier, and so must have been penned some time while I was in Bravil with Caroline.

Wishing more than anything that I could read the letter for myself, I pressed on. "What else can you tell me of the letter?" I asked, trying to slow my racing heart. The knowledge that Martin had called me the – _his_ – future Empress; that he had done so in such a public manner; all at once scared, excited, and somewhat embarrassed me. A part of me knew that he must have done it so that Count Indarys would send his guard at once, and I cautioned myself to not become carried away by it; though realistically, he could have requested that they locate the Hero of Kvatch and secured much the same response, surely.

Seemingly amused by my reactions to everything he was divulging, Farwil continued. "Only a little more. After the request that we locate you, he appealed to my father that his delegation escort you to Bruma, and remain to take part in some Oblivion gate ploy that the city is under threat of," he waved his hand dismissively. "Which, I am lead to believe, you know _all_ about already."

"Oh," was all I could reply, as I looked away from Farwil, and stared at nothing as I considered this. So _that_ was what Ohtesse had meant, when she had told me that going to Cheydinhal would not be necessary. Martin's letter had completed my quest for me, and secured the soldiers from Cheydinhal for Bruma's defence.

"Yes," Farwil chimed in, recapturing my attention. "Oh," he echoed me pointedly, and the searching intensity was back in his eyes as I met it steadily. I had the sudden notion, now that I knew what he had wanted to tell me, that he had not been looking at me wondering how I could be the Hero the papers talked about, but rather how I could possibly be in such favour with an Emperor that nobody else had met yet.

I could have assumed, from his knowing smirk, that he was making fun of me, but I felt a warm, fluttering lightness at the reveal that my quest was practically over, and met his smirk with a relieved, genuine smile of my own.

"Thank you," I shifted to rise, slowly swinging my legs around so that I could put my feet on the hard packed earthen floor of the tent. "I _am_ grateful for the Emperor's letter," I pushed the blanket aside, and Farwil stepped toward me, holding out his hands. I looked up to him and accepted his assistance, putting my hands in his, and continued. "However I believe that the credit, as you call it, is owed to _you_ for carrying out what the letter asked."

"All right, Sarina," Farwil helped me to rise, his smirk persisting all the while. "If you insist," he sighed loudly.

I let go of his hands, and looked down to my bare feet, visible just under the hem of the pale cotton dress I was in. I wiggled my toes, then took a step toward the exit. Farwil was by my side, and offered me an elbow with a little flourish.

I tried not to laugh at him, remembering that I had stifled the same incredulous, bubbling giggle when his father had bowed elaborately to me back at the White-Gold Tower. "I _do_ insist," I told him, as I took his offered arm and let him push aside the canvas of the tent doorway so we could step outside. "I owe you my life," I told him, as I stopped and looked out around us, at the camp we were in.

It was night, and campfires were lit not far from where we stood. Tents fluttered in a cool breeze that brushed past us. I felt my eyes widen as I took in the scene; there were soldiers - most wearing the Cheydinhal crest - _everywhere_. Legions of them; more than I could count, in the darkness of the night.

"Let it never be said that Cheydinhal, at least, does not rise to the needs of our neighbours," Farwil said smugly.

I turned to look up at him quickly, my hand gripping the crook of his elbow a little tighter, for a moment, deciding that, in this matter at least, he was allowed to be proud. "None will hear such words pass my lips," I promised him.

Farwil did not have the temperament to even feign modesty, and I could see him drink in the praise with gusto, as he indicated we move out, toward the campfires.

"Come, Sarina. There are many who wish to meet the Hero they have read about," he gave me a sideways glance then, "and I for one would also like to learn about our new Emperor, whose heart you seem to have captured."

I was the one to smile secretively this time, as we made our way to the campfires.


	42. The Return

The sun had barely risen the next morning when I found myself mounting up to travel northward, about to begin our journey to Bruma, with Farwil Indarys on his horse to my left. It was surreal, after the previous two days, to be calm about anything, but I supposed that I had Ohtesse to thank for that.

The Altmer mage rode her horse to my right, having insisted that she needed to monitor me today, despite my telling her that I felt fine.

"That is the troublesome thing about bereavement," she had calmly told me in my tent that morning, after she had healed me briefly when I had woken. "It will grip your heart and take hold of your senses quite suddenly, when you least expect it," she had explained. "Like a poison; you won't even know its there until it has drained your reserves."

I didn't quite agree with her comparison, now that I could think about the matter a little more clearly. Rather than wanting to wash it away, I felt that the time spent after the loss of a loved one in grief allowed your feelings regarding them to become a part of you forever, embraced by one's soul and eventually providing solace, as opposed to dispelling them altogether. But I hadn't pressed the matter, because I knew that I needed to have all of my wits about me if I was to survive the trials ahead. In particular, the looming confrontation with Mankar Camoran, which I felt might happen any day now that the task to gain Bruma's defence was verging on completed. But mostly, I allowed Ohtesse to stay close because I preferred her company to Farwil's.

He had stayed close to me the previous night; not out of friendliness, but of a reason more cunning in nature, I felt. He had insisted, for example, that I cast off his title and call him Farwil; which we both knew would become my privilege if I _did_ become Empress, but not before. To stop him insisting on this intimacy between us, which became tiresome to refuse, I had relented.

He had wanted to know about Oblivion, but I hadn't been sure of what to tell him, without venturing too closely to topics I didn't feel I could discuss yet. I had explained the basics; the wheres, the hows, the daedra encountered and the class system they appeared to live by. He had seemed very interested in the fact that I had ventured into Oblivion many times with only my bow and Caroline with her sword, but I did my best to deter him from fixating on this discussion, instead directing him to talk about himself, and Cheydinhal, at every opportunity.

It wasn't too difficult to distract him. At times, his contributions to the conversation were pure vanity and exceedingly boastful, and then at others, pandering towards me; praising my courage, beauty, or skill in some area or other, but always with a slightly offensive undertone that I had not been born for such tasks, and as such, my 'sacrifice' was one that insisted upon pity and regret, in his opinion.

While I was amazed by the generosity of Count Indarys in sending his legions to retrieve me, and then committing them to the Bruma cause, simply because Martin had asked him to, I felt that Farwil had included himself in these events for one purpose only; to gain his _own_ good favour with the new Emperor, through me.

But perhaps I was being too harsh on him. Despite everything I had been taught to believe about Farwil, and despite the stream of sighs and out-of-sight eye rolling from the guards that accompanied us, I found it quite easy to manage him. Perhaps it was because I was more used to dealing with nobility than I was with soldiers, so I expected the layers of pomp and hidden meaning beneath everything he said.

"In your own time, Darelliun," Farwil called out snobbishly to the Cheydinhal Commander, who had taken the lead when the call for those who had horses to mount up had been made.

The Imperial man, who I'd been informed was the second-in-command to the Captain of the Cheydinhal guard, was in discussion with another mounted soldier and inspecting a map, when Farwil had rudely interjected. He turned to regard us both with a somewhat hard, unimpressed expression; his mouth drawn into a straight line.

"A few minutes more patience, Lord Indarys," he called back, nodding slightly but dutifully to the Dunmer, and though his words were respectful, his voice sounded strained.

Farwil huffed at this. "What? Why do you delay us? Are you deliberately keeping the Emperor waiting?" he demanded, as he adjusted the thick emerald-green cloak he was wearing over his shoulders, so his arms were free to move about.

I automatically moved, to hold my hand up to Farwil and insist he take pause. A few minutes more would not greatly delay us, over the course of the long day of riding ahead. But I hesitated, and decided that to say anything of such a nature would sound like a rebuke, which would only offend or embarrass him, particularly in front of so many guards.

I could hear tension in Commander Darelliun's reply, which came while I was deciding how to proceed; "The regiment travelling ahead of us to make camp must know where they are to go, or there is no point in sending them ahead at all."

He turned back, to continue talking with the mounted guard next to him, in obvious dismissal, but it seemed that Farwil was going to demand to have the last word.

"Why ever did you not prepare them last night-?" he began, trying to interrupt again.

I reminded myself that the Dunmer had no concept of embarrassment or shame, so what did it matter what I said to him? I flushed on his behalf, resolved to shut him up somehow, to let the Commander do what he needed to do. With a gentle tug to Ebony's reigns, I edged her slightly closer to Farwil on his mount.

"Farwil," I cut in smoothly as I sat up a little taller on the saddle, pushing the hood of the cloak I had been given that morning by Farwil back, so I could talk to him properly. Apparently, the cloak had been brought along as gift for me, from his father. "Let them be; your father's guard make us wait only to make our journey more comfortable. I am happy to wait with you," I said warmly, feigning the familiarity of tone that Farwil had insisted I display toward him the previous night, and lacing it with a slight snobbishness that I knew would appeal to him. "Besides, you did not finish your tale around the camp fire, before I retired, on your forming the Knights of the Thorn? I would very much like to hear the end of it, while we wait for the guards to be ready."

It was a weak attempt, but I had done it hurriedly and picked the first thing I could think of that might deter him from delaying us further and making more of a scene. I hoped that all within range could sense that its purpose had been entirely to draw Farwil's attention away from Commander Darelliun.

Farwil flashed me a glance, his sharp eyes annoyed and slightly narrowed, but I smiled innocently, and waited. In front of us, I heard the Commander and the other guard resume their conversation.

"There is not much more to it," he hesitated, but I could see that he was distracted enough, particularly by an opportunity to talk about the one thing he loved above all else; himself.

I insisted to him that I wished to hear the whole of it, if he was willing to tell it, and naturally, he was. I paid all of my attention to him for a time, to keep him from harassing the guards while they planned our day's journey.

Soon enough, Commander Darelliun called out that we were to depart.

"Finally!" Farwil said, loud and reproachful.

"And you meet how many times a week?" I asked him hurriedly, repeating the last thing that he had been telling me about. Those of us who were mounted set our horses into a walk, while the infantry followed after at a march.

Farwil shook his head derisively at the Commander's back, a sneer in his voice, though when he spoke again it was to answer my question. "Yes, sometimes more frequently, depending on how much business we have from week to week," the sneer settled out of his tone as he continued.

The day passed and we travelled steadily northward, though I noticed little of the scenery. Between keeping Farwil talking to prevent him from berating the Cheydinhal guard, and riding, by the time we had stopped at the camp that night, I was weary and more than ready to retire to the tent that had been prepared for me.

But that was not to be. No sooner had we arrived at camp and dismounted, that a voice cried out nearby, easily heard above the din made by so many people in one place by its frantic pitch.

"Commander!"

All within the vicinity of Commander Darelliun, including myself, Ohtesse and Farwil, turned to observe a Cheydinhal guard racing toward us; a small, thin man wielding a piece of parchment, which he placed in the Commander's hand as soon as he reached his side.

As the Commander read the note, the courier guard tried to catch his breath, and hurriedly explained, "An Oblivion gate has opened, directly outside of Cheydinhal's walls. The Count," he wheezed, indicating the letter, "he has requested that a legion be spared and sent back, to close it-"

"Yes, I can read," the Commander cut him off swiftly, his eyes roving the parchment for a moment longer before he lowered it, and turned his eyes up to me.

"Are there no soldiers left in Cheydinhal to mount a defence?" I asked hurriedly, as the thought of my being asked to venture into Oblivion again to close this new gate sent chills along my spine. And really - why would Count Indarys have sent his _entire_ guard and left his own people defenceless?

 _You wanted the nobles to take the threat to Bruma seriously,_ I reminded myself. _Count Indarys has._

Commander Darelliun shook his head. "Of course - a token guard remain with the Captain, for the Count's protection, but he believed it best to send as many has he could to answer the Emperor's call."

Farwil stepped forward quickly now, frowning at the courier. "A single gate, you say? Did you see it, on your departure? Which city gate has it opened closest to?"

The courier looked between Farwil and the Commander dubiously, and back to Farwil again. "The western gate, my Lord," he said in a rush. "I saw it, when I left, but I did not stay in time to see any daedra emerge from it. Legate Gregori is keeping watch of it, but it-"

"It won't be long until they do," Farwil finished the courier's sentence for him, and glanced eastward, in the direction of Cheydinhal, I assumed.

Commander Darelliun spoke up, addressing me, again. "My Lady, might we spare a single legion-?"

"Oh!" I said in a rush, realising that he had been looking at me not to request that I enter and close the gate, but so that I would approve the return of one legion to Cheydinhal to defend it!

"Commander – please, send any soldiers you need back to Cheydinhal at once. The Emperor would not wish to leave Cheydinhal's people and Count Indarys undefended, in his name," I added, assuming that his questioning me on the matter meant that he thought I spoke _for_ the Emperor.

The courier bowed to me hurriedly, in thanks I supposed. I felt incredibly awkward about the turn of events, particularly at my own new-found hesitance to rush out and personally close the Oblivion gate.

"Understood. Thank you," the Commander returned his attention to the courier. "Othran should be around the fire pits," he motioned them, "and his legion have rested the longest, as they arrived early, to set up before us-"

Farwil spoke up again, an edge of prestige to his tone. "Hold a moment, Commander," he interrupted, and I felt him lay a hand on my arm.

I turned to regard him questioningly.

"There is no need to deprive the Emperor of one of the Cheydinhal legions," he continued to address the Commander.

I drew in a breath, worried now that _he_ was about to suggest I venture forth and close it personally, but he surprised everyone when he continued.

"I have heard it said that a single Oblivion gate is no great trouble," he flickered me a glance, as though wanting me to confirm this for him. I remained perfectly still; he would hear no such thing from me. "My Knights and I shall undertake the quest, in no time at all, and then return to the camp."

"Lord Indarys," Commander Darelliun spoke up impatiently. "Neither you nor your men have _any_ experience in Oblivion -"

"Which is why it is high time we did our duty," he cut in grandly. "For the glory of the Knights of the Thorn, for Cheydinhal, and for the Emperor!" he turned his eyes down to look at me, finally. "What say you, Sarina?" he asked, excitement in his tone and a glint in his gaze. "If you can handle an Oblivion gate with nobody but your handmaiden, it shall be a trifle for my men!"

On my right, I heard someone sigh, and I could have sworn that the Commander rolled his eyes.

That he was excited about the prospect of venturing into Oblivion, for the _glory_ of it, told me straight away that he was not up to the task. I shook my head, feeling my eyes widen as I reached out and grasped the hand that still held my arm. "Your father would never forgive me," I said the only thing I could think of to deter him, in a manner that wouldn't sound like a slight against his abilities.

"Hah!" he replied, letting go of my arm immediately, and standing tall. "I admire your efforts, but as you put it, Sarina; the Emperor would not want to leave my father and my people defenceless, and it is _they_ who the Knights of the Thorn were formed to protect, after all."

The Commander finally snapped, and I startled at the hostility in his voice as he barked, "This is no time for you and your friends to go gallivanting off – people's _lives_ are at risk!" he seemed livid.

Farwil regarded the Commander cooly, as he narrowed his eyes. After a tense, silent moment, he replied. "Commander, you forget yourself, _and_ that I outrank you in this matter."

Commander Darelliun all but spat at him, and his teeth were clenched now as he said in a strained voice, "Lord Indarys, I will not stop you if you _truly_ believe that venturing into Oblivion with the Knights of the Thorn is the best that can be done for _Cheydinhal_ , but-"

"I have decided. It is settled," Farwil cut him off rudely, and turned immediately back to his horse.

Wait – what had just happened? _Farwil Indarys_ was going back to Cheydinhal, to attempt to close the Oblivion gate?! I took a step toward the young man, as he mounted up.

"Farwil, you can't!" I implored. Whether he wanted to get himself killed or not was truly no business of mine, but I was distressed at the thought of bringing sorrow to Count Indarys, who had shown me nothing but kindness and support since I had known him.

The look on his face was preemptively triumphant as he stared down to me and raised a hand in farewell, the corner of his mouth lifting in an amused smirk. "Do not fear for me, dear Sarina," he bade with flair; "we shall dispose of this gateway to Dagon's Deadlands, as you have done so many times before me, and rejoin you on the road to Bruma, on the morrow."

He turned his eyes upward, and began searching the crowds of soldiers. "Knights, to me!" he hollered. "To Oblivion, and our fates, we ride!"

I startled again, this time at his volume, and closed my eyes in dread as a chorus of male voices replied with all manner of naïve hurruhs. When I opened my eyes, he was already moving toward the road.

"Let him go, my Lady," Ohtesse was next to me.

I turned to the Altmer healer, feeling drained and helpless. "He doesn't know what he's doing," I told her, my voice sounding more fearful than I had realised it would.

She shrugged, also a little helplessly, and tried to smile. "He does what he believes is right, for himself, and the glory he and his men have been searching for, for so long," she tried to direct me away from where we had gathered, toward one of the tents. "Once Lord Indarys has decided upon something that he wants, there are not many who can stop him from getting it."

A pang of guilt swept through me. If I had not talked to him of Oblivion the previous night, perhaps he wouldn't have thought twice of venturing out to close a gate himself.

I couldn't think of anything to reply to Ohtesse with, and sadly watched on as Farwil and his Knights gathered, some distance from us, all boasts and loud cheers. It seemed as though half of them were either unnaturally excitable, or drunk, and it was clear that all were eager for adventure and heroics, completely unaware of what they were about to cast themselves into.

"Come, my Lady; I can feel the fatigue in you," Ohtesse urged me to turn away.

I let Ohtesse lead me, as there was no point in debating the matter with her. I noticed the Commander and courier exchanging a few hushed words; the Commander's eyes still narrowed and glinting with annoyance, and with a beckoning hand from him, a few other guards joined them.

I hoped that the Commander was arranging for Farwil and his Knights to be followed, and not simply for the courier to return to the Count with an account of what had passed.

Ohtesse had opened the door flap of one of the tents for me and was waiting for me to enter it, but I turned back and looked over the assembled soldiers, locating Farwil and the six or seven other mounted soldiers with him again. They all wore the same style of silver plate armour he did, sitting tall and proud on their horses as they broke free of the crowd of assembled Cheydinhal soldiers, and rode east at a canter, creating long shadows against the ground as the sun dipped below the tree line to the west of our camp.

–

Regardless of Ohtesse's kind words and healing session, I was wracked with guilt. I slept poorly, and dreamed of Oblivion when I did sleep; of being trapped there, the heat pressing down on me like an enormous hand, choking me.

When I had woken from the nightmare, I had decided that I must do something about Farwil and his men riding into Oblivion; and I could not wait until dawn to do so.

I stepped into my boots and threw the blue cloak I had been given the previous day around my shoulders, then pushed aside the tent flap hurriedly, startling the two Cheydinhal soldiers standing guard either side of the entryway in the process.

"It's all right," I adjusted the cloak pin on my shoulder, as I stepped out. "I am fine. Perhaps you can help me," I turned to one of them, and noticed it was the red-headed Bosmer who'd been with the party who'd found me in the woods. Had that really happened only two days ago?

"Where is Commander Darelliun's tent?" I asked her.

"Oh," she blinked a little, stepping forward. "Here, my Lady, we will take you."

"Thank you."

I was sure I could have found the tent on my own with some directions, but I reasoned that if the guards had been set there to watch over me, it made sense that they accompany me now, rather than remain standing guard of an empty tent.

The camp was by no means quiet, despite it being what I assumed was very early morning. Both Masser and Secunda were high in the sky, and close enough to being full. Their combined light, and the light from the many campfires, made it easy to see all the way to the borders of the temporary encampment.

Farwil had told me, the previous night, that their numbers exceeded two hundred. That meant that Count Indarys had committed no less than twenty legions to the cause. Many of them must have been sleeping, but those risen, who I assumed were on watch, were positioned around campfires and the extents of the camp. A few were sorting and sharpening weapons, and I reminded myself that I needed to acquire another bow, at some stage.

 _There will be no questioning what we are doing, should the Dawn stumble upon us,_ I thought, then reminded myself that it no longer mattered. We would be in Bruma tomorrow, and there was no way that the Mythic Dawn would be able to assemble a force to match ours within Cyrodiil, Oblivion gates or no.

"Here we are, my Lady," the Bosmer guard indicated a tent, beside which two tall green and gold banners bearing the Cheydinhal crest were planted.

I thanked them again and stepped forward, hesitating as I wondered whether there was any way to knock on a tent? Traditionally, my status would allow me to enter without knocking, but remembering how angry Darelliun had grown with Farwil that afternoon, I didn't want to risk him becoming frustrated with me for barging in on him.

I turned back to my accompanying guard. "Might...one of you wake him?" I asked, a little embarrassed, and turned toward the nearest fire pit. "I can speak to him out here," I made for it, without waiting for an answer.

Settling myself on a seat that had been propped up by the fire, and holding the cloak around myself as a breeze ruffled through my hair, I shuddered, staring into the flames. A pair of Cheydinhal soldiers were sitting the other side of the fire, playing a card game, and cast me a curious look and respectful nod, before turning back to their match.

I managed a small smile in return, though my mind was elsewhere as I stared into the campfire. The breeze scattered a few sparks up into the night, and again I wondered how Farwil and his Knights were managing in Oblivion at that very moment.

I fidgeted; regardless of who they were and how little time I had spent with the frustrating Farwil; knowing what he faced, but not knowing how he fared, was almost as unbearable as the thought of having to venture back into Dagon's realm for myself.

The sound of approaching boots brought my mind back to the camp, and I turned, straightening on the seat, to see Commander Darelliun approaching in the plainclothes that he must have been sleeping in.

"Lady Passero, what is the matter?" he asked when he reached the place where he might sit beside me, though he remained standing.

I stared up at him, feeling foolish. "I'm sorry for waking you," I began, motioning to a seat next to me. "Please, won't you sit? I won't keep you from your bed for long," I promised.

He sat slowly, fixing me with a dubious stare, and I turned back to the fire and sighed.

"Commander," I settled on my starting point. "How many times have you entered Oblivion?" I asked, turning back to watch him for his answer.

The blonde Imperial man crossed his brows at me. "A few. What is this about, my Lady?"

"A few," I repeated, and nodded. "Then, you know exactly what Lord Indarys and his Knights are facing, perhaps at this very moment?" I pressed on.

His mouth straightened into a line, and his eyes narrowed into a slight glare at the mention of Farwil. He nodded in reply.

I came straight to the point, a little ruffled by Darelliun's inability to remain professional, the moment Farwil was involved. In that regard, he was almost as bad as Farwil himself, for allowing himself to be so affected by the thought of one man. "Your personal feelings toward Farwil aside; does it not concern you, what losing his only son will do to the Count?"

The Commander replied quickly, trying to sound reasonable, "You saw that I tried to stop him from going, but he insists on being contrary-" he waved his hand about, his frustration plainly written on him.

"Yes," I cut him off, "I saw what happened. You needn't worry about anybody blaming you for what might happen to Lord Indarys," I said carefully. "The Count will only have the Emperor to blame, should Farwil not make it out of Oblivion alive, as it is _he_ who deprived his region of their regular defences."

Commander Darelliun spluttered, forgetting propriety entirely in his outburst; "The Emperor is less to blame for Farwil's idiocy than you and I are!"

"But he _will_ bear it," I responded surely. "And grief over the loss of a loved one does _all_ manner of torment, to even the steadiest of dispositions," I added, my voice sounding hard to even my own ears. At once, I realised that the guilt I felt was guilt over Caroline's fate, which had easily shifted into guilt for allowing Farwil to journey to the gate unprepared, and for being too afraid to insist that I accompany him into Oblivion.

"Lady Passero," Commander Darelliun was tight-lipped, and sounded strained again. "I do not know what you would have me do," he uttered quietly. "There is no controlling the will of Lord Indarys. He thinks only of himself, and his imagined glory."

"I know," I sighed, frowning at my own realisation. Days ago, had I been faced with this situation, I would have ridden at once to the gate, to follow him into it and ensure that he be brought out again, for the sake of the father.

But now? I shuddered, as an image of the loathsome place formed in my mind. The turbulent, angry skies; the charred, blackened stone ribbed with veins of searing lava; the ear-shattering drone of the Sigil stone tower; and in the middle of the picture that formed was Caroline – her face pale, but ash-smeared and expressionless, as she stood waiting and watching, unaffected by the hot wind buffeting against her that ruffled the loose straps on her armour and her wispy blonde hair around her.

"I would have you do as the Count bade, in his note," I looked back up to the Commander, as I exhaled shakily and tried to cast off the fear Oblivion had roused in me. "They Emperor would not question the deployment of a single legion, to ensure the Oblivion gate be closed. And in doing so they might be of assistance to Lord Indarys, and be able to prevent distress that Count Indarys would feel if his son were lost to Mehrune's Dagon's realm."

The Commander let out a sigh of his own, staring into the flames of the campfire we sat next to, as he shook his head. "You would ask me to risk the lives of good, brave men and women, to save the life of a fool and the fools who follow him?" he turned back to me. "Are their lives worth so little to you, simply because of who their fathers are?"

I closed my eyes, as the guilt swept through me again. What I asked had sounded logical and fair, when I had imagined it and hastened to the Commander's tent, but unreasonable once presented back to me by him.

The Commander was right. I could not ask that others do something that I was unwilling to do myself.

I shook my head, and opened my eyes, addressing the Commander with a frown. "No. I'm sorry; you are right."

 _Either you must offer to close the gate yourself, or you must leave Farwil to his fate,_ I told myself sternly.

"It was only a matter of time before Lord Indarys put himself in mortal peril," the Commander said, assuming that this would somehow console me, I felt.

I nodded. "I suppose we must trust that he, as a grown man, knows what he's doing," I added in a mutter.

The Commander huffed in response, but said nothing.

Soon after, I thanked the Commander for his time and apologised for waking him. With a hasty assurance that it was no trouble, he left the fire side, and the Bosmer guard approached me at once. "Shall we return to your tent, my Lady?"

I glanced at her, then at the sky to the east, which was dark indigo. Dawn was still a little way off, then.

 _You are not responsible for him,_ I told myself.

Nodding, I rose and followed the woman, telling myself that despite how I felt, I would have to make myself sleep so that I was able to keep up during the ride to Bruma, that we would be commencing as soon as the sun rose.

–

The wind had a cool edge that nipped against the exposed skin of my cheeks and lips as it whipped my hair out of the messy braid I had tied it into.

The camp had been almost entirely packed away, and most of our number were due to begin riding at any moment, with a few staying behind to clear up completely and then catch us up.

Dressed warmly in the armour I'd been given in Kvatch, the additions Caroline and I had assembled in Anvil, and the cloak I'd been gifted by the Count of Cheydinhal via Farwil the day before, I raised the hood of the cloak, and turned in the saddle to gaze to the east, toward the trees and shadows that lingered between them that stood between us and Cheydinhal.

There was still no sign of Farwil or any of the Knights of the Thorn. I calculated that it had been almost ten hours since they had left the camp, bound for Oblivion. A part of me hoped that they had made short work of the gate, retreated to a nearby Inn to celebrate their success, and were now sleeping off hangovers, unaware of our imminent departure.

The alternatives were too much to bear, and I snippily chided myself that it wasn't because I worried about the men personally; it was only because of the guilt I felt, over my reluctance to go after them.

 _Coward_ , I scolded.

 _What makes you so certain that you could be any help to them at all?_ I grimaced, as my mother's voice rose up to berate me for wallowing in self-pity. _You nearly died, two days ago. They are seven grown men, trained to wield swords; they have no need of you._

"Onward!" Commander Darelliun called out, thankfully cutting off my inner dialogue, and I sat up and willed myself to focus on what we were presently doing, pressing my heels into Ebony gently to ease her into the queue of mounted soldiers departing the camp.

For a time we headed west, away from the newly risen sun, and toward the White-Gold Tower of the Imperial City, which was visible in the distance. I realised why when we joined what I overheard a guard telling another was the Blue road; despite it being a greater distance to do so, it would be faster for us to follow the roads, than to cut across the Great Forest, which was directly north of us. The intention was to travel by road all the way to Bruma now; joining the Red Ring road at the end of the Blue, and then turning north when we met the Silver.

What would Ocato make of the sight of the Cheydinhal army when it came into view? I had no doubts that he would be alerted of our approach, when we were nearer to the Imperial City. Would it make him feel any guilt himself, over his refusal to attempt to summon the Imperial Legion to defend Bruma and his Emperor, in seeing how generous Count Indarys had been?

 _It would serve him right if he was,_ I answered myself, turning away from the visible top of the White-Gold Tower and instead casting my eyes northward, to the Jerall mountains in the distance. Bruma was at the base of the range.

 _And Cloud Ruler Temple is only a day's walk north of Bruma_.

If the Countess had no further need of me, when we arrived in her city, perhaps I could leave for Cloud Ruler Temple tomorrow morning?

As we rode, I thought about returning to the hidden base of the Blades. For a moment, my chest felt fluttery as I considered the prospect of holding onto and being held by Martin, but my mind deviated to more urgent matters before I allowed myself to become distracted by yearning. Once returned, I could find out how Martin had fared with the final translation from the _Xarxes_ , and whether or not the Blades that had been dispatched to recover the first three items needed for the ritual had returned. Would we be any closer to opening the gateway to Camoran's Paradise, than when I had left?

And if we were – what then? Was I ready, physically and emotionally, to face the man who had caused the death and destruction of so much that I held dear?

 _When the moment arrives, you must not delay,_ I schooled myself. _There will be no hope of ending this, until the Amulet is recovered from him, and you must be the one to deliver retribution, whether you feel you are ready or not._

Instead of allowing myself to shrink away from the prospect this time, I forced myself to think it over; to _make_ myself grow used to the idea that I would be confronting him soon, in the hope that I could both reason why I had been supposedly _chosen_ to carry out this task, as absurd as it seemed, and determine what I had at my disposal that might enable me to overcome him.

As I tried to detach myself from the confrontation and mentally created a list of items I would need to acquire in Bruma, we rode on. I'd need a decent bow, some better boots, perhaps replacements for Jauffre's rings that had been lost. For that matter, it would be sensible to find someone to enchant what armour I did have in its own right; rings were too easily lost or taken off.

 _Yes, but what does he want,_ Caroline's voice interrupted my thoughts, and then a memory of something she had said to me during one of our training sessions added; _Understand what motivates your attacker and you are on your way to overcoming them._

Was it possible to reason the motivations of a madman?

I carried on considering the possibilities as we finally turned onto the Silver road, and with our backs to the White-Gold tower now, began the final leg of the journey to Bruma.

–

Despite our numbers, we made very good time, and arrived at the Bruma gates that afternoon. I stared at the walled city in wonder as we made our approach; it did not appear altered since I had last laid eyes on it, and a part of me wondered if none of the promised legions from around Cyrodiil had arrived.

I shook my head then, remembering that the intention had always been to hide the assembly of the force; it just seemed that they were doing a particularly good job of it.

The Bruma guard had, of course, noticed our approach, and we were met at the gates by a delegation of armoured men and women bearing the Bruma crest on their cuirasses; none of whom I recognised. For a moment, I wondered that Captain Burd hadn't been summoned to meet us, before I paid attention to those who had.

Commander Darelliun nodded a hello, from where he sat atop his mount. "Cheydinhal guard, reporting for duty," he told them, a somewhat smug edge to his tone that I hadn't heard him use before.

"You can say that again," one of the Bruma guards replied to him, and then there was some laughter from all of the officers.

I found I couldn't help but smile a little too; all of a sudden, the knowledge that my quest was at an end and Bruma was as defended as it was going to be made my spirits soar. I dismounted Ebony, untied Caroline's pack from her saddle, and walked her toward the stables.

"And Lady Passero?" I could hear another of the guards asking, as I stepped away from them. "Did you recover her in time?"

"Yes – of course – she is just over there."

I turned at the sound of my name, and realised that I still had my hood raised, so they hadn't realised I was there. "I am here-" I began, lowering the hood of my cloak, and then stopped short, drawing a startled breath as the Bruma guard standing around Commander Darelliun each lowered themselves onto a knee and bowed their heads.

Flushing at the excessive show of formality, which was beyond my station and the type of bow one _did_ give to an Empress, I passed Ebony's reigns to a nearby Cheydinhal guard, and turned back, wondering what was expected of me, and just how far the contents of Martin's letter to the Count of Cheydinhal had travelled.

Did _all_ of Cyrodiil suddenly believe me to be engaged to Martin? And why? We had certainly not hidden our affection for one another in the company of the Blades while we'd been together at Cloud Ruler Temple, but we had been so busy with training and the _Xarxes_...as far as I could recall, there had been no formal arrangement made between us; only a wish-filled promise that I would stand by him if we won this war.

Was that enough for him - my promise - to be calling us engaged? As unorthodox as it was, after a brief consideration, I admitted that it _was_ enough for me.

"Please, rise," I tried to make my voice sound even as I approached them, shifting my gaze to the nearest of the Bruma guards, so that I didn't have to talk to all of them at once. "Have all of the other delegations arrived before us?" I asked him smoothly.

The guard hesitated as he rose, casting a glance to his fellows before nodding to me. "We believe so, my Lady; a small number from Leyawiin arrived yesterday. Unless there are any soldiers from Bravil to arrive after you?"

I shook my head; there was no certainty that the Captain of the Bravil guard _would_ be able to send any of her soldiers north under Count Terentius' nose, but with the enormous show of support from Cheydinhal, it no longer mattered. "Then we are the last of them," I confirmed. "And the situation with the Oblivion gates?" I asked directly. "Have the Dawn attempted to open the Great Gate while I've been gone?"

The guard I had been addressing flickered his comrades another uncertain glance and I turned to regard those around me, the question still in my eyes, which gave any of them leave to respond to me. Commander Darelliun had turned back to his horse and was saying something in a low voice to one of the other Cheydinhal guards, but the Bruma guards remained silent for too long.

I had no idea what their silence could mean, and asked warily, "What is it?"

One of the guards did speak up then, stepping forward. "Apologies, my Lady. Perhaps it would be best if we escorted you to the castle."

I nodded to him, motioning toward the gate to the city and trying to calm the anxiety that their reluctance to answer me had caused. "That sounds like a good idea."

The guard nodded and instructed two of his company to lead me, and I turned back to Commander Darelliun, thanking him for his assistance. I cast my eyes about the assembly for Ohtesse, to thank her as well, but couldn't find the Altmer priest amongst the mass of Cheydinhal cuirasses.

"My Lady?" a female voice asked, and I stopped searching and turned to the tall Bruma guard who addressed me. _Find and thank Ohtesse later._

"Yes, I'm ready," I told her and the other that was waiting for me, and motioned for them to lead the way as I slung Caroline's backpack over one of my shoulders.

While there had been no immediate indications outside of Bruma that suggested they were assembling an army, the activity within the walls made it plain. Instead of families, farmers, and children, the streets were filled with grown men and women, all of whom were dressed in plainclothes, but bore the signs of being armed guards; from the way they carried themselves, to the weapons they wore. Each person we passed carried some type of standard-issue weaponry; from bows to cudgels.

As we moved along side the Chapel, I noticed that several tents had been set up along side it, containing a blacksmith or two, by the looks of the hard-working people within each. They worked with their hammers and flames, on anvils, stone benches, and buckets of hissing water. The sounds of hammers ringing out against steel echoed against the tall walls of the Chapel and around the courtyard, as we turned onto the road that lead to the castle.

I did not miss the glances cast my way by the soldiers we passed. I was used to people looking at me, but I was _not_ used to the unguarded awe that I saw in each face, as we passed by them.

My own face was a mask of composure but a sense of shame built up within me as we approached the gate to Castle Bruma. After a night of warring with my own guilt and cowardice over Farwil on the surface, and Caroline deep within my soul, their attention made me uncomfortable all over again. Despite being largely responsible for assembling the army to defend Bruma, I felt wretched, as though I was deceiving them, and did not deserve their regard.

 _Get over yourself_ , I told myself sternly. I noticed the guards on duty within the entry startle when they recognised me, though they calmed themselves quickly and said nothing.

The two who lead me must have known where they were going, as they didn't stop when we entered the cavernous great hall within, which was empty of people.

Realising that they must be taking me directly to see the Countess, instead of Captain Burd as I had assumed they would, I made a hurried attempt to neaten my appearance while we veered toward the right of the hall, toward the dining room.

I ran my hands through my windswept hair, which had completely fallen out of its braid during the long ride, then adjusted the cloak about my shoulders so that it wasn't quite so rumpled. As an afterthought, as we reached the closed door to the dining room, I pinched my cheeks and bit my bottom lip for a moment, to bring some blood back into my face.

One of the Bruma guards escorting me opened the door. Voices from within were discernible, though they stopped when the guard stepped into the room to announce me.

"Countess, forgive the intrusion, but the Lady Passero has returned-"

"She's here?" I heard Countess Carvain cut in quickly over the top of the guard.

"The Cheydinhal guard have arrived?" I heard Captain Burd ask at the same moment.

The guard didn't know who to answer first, but I rolled my eyes at the overreaction my arrival had caused wherever I had gone, since I had arrived, and swept into the room.

"Yes, Captain; the Cheydinhal guard are here; I travelled with them," I responded as I turned into the room. I saw both the Countess and the Captain, sitting at the other end of the dining room at the large table, with a number of other guards standing around them. All were bent over what looked like a large map, and though I couldn't make out the detail of it, I assumed that it was a map of county Bruma.

Silence met my words and appearance, and naturally, all eyes in the room were upon me at once. Wondering again what they expected me to say to break this silence, I inclined my head toward the Countess, settling on the maintenance of propriety between us. "Countess Carvain, it is good to see you again," I spoke, as nobody else was.

"Lady Passero," she replied, and I heard a shuffling sound. I raised my eyes to see Countess Carvain had stood up, and was holding her hands out in friendly greeting, which meant I could approach. "Sarina," she dropped my title, and she was shaking her head, somewhat overcome by the looks of her, as I walked toward the group at the end of the table, "there are not words equal to the task of thanking you, for the service you have done to my people."

I still felt that twinge of nerves and an edge of guilt, but I made sure I smiled as I replied to her. "The true heroes are the Counts and Countesses of Cyrodiil," I began, pleading modesty, in an attempt to direct the conversation away from the details of my quest, "for without their support, I would be returning to you on my own," I raised my hands, to take the Countess', as I met her.

I could see warmth and gratitude in her gaze; a rare sight in the eyes of any of the nobility, and particularly in the canny Countess. The nerves, and the wrongness that I had been feeling, began to soften, as I realised in looking at and speaking to her, the long, arduous quest for allies _was_ finally over.

"My dear, it is no use being humble," Countess Carvain squeezed my hands slightly in hers and I noticed her eyes were bright with tears, as she returned my smile. "None in all of Cyrodiil will listen to anything less than what is the truth – the glory belongs to you, and _nobody_ else," she lowered our hands, letting go in the process.

Wondering at this newly-emotional Countess Carvain, and trying to force down the flush that rose in my cheeks at her flowery praise, I simply smiled again, then turned my eyes away from her and cast them over the map laid out before them.

"The guards who met us at the gate wouldn't tell me," I spoke to the map, leaning over it a little and wishing to change the subject before the great personal cost of my quest was brought up, and they began to cast their pity my way. "Have many Oblivion gates been opened? Have the Dawn tried to expedite their plan?"

Before the Countess could reply, another voice spoke up, and I froze, recognising it instantly, but not at first believing entirely that it was who I thought I heard.

"I'm afraid that many plans have altered, since you left on your journey, Lady Passero," Jauffre's commanding tone rang out, from the other side of the dining hall.

 _It can't be_ , I turned my eyes up, feeling as though time had slowed down as I stared across the room, my eyes widening.

_It is him._

The Grandmaster of the Blades was standing there, watching me and unsmiling, at a doorway opposite the one I had entered through only moments ago.

I stood up and clapped my hand to my mouth as I gasped out of shock.

The room was once again apparently waiting for my response, as I hastily uncovered my mouth and managed to utter a somewhat rude and horrified, "What are _you_ doing here?"

Before he had replied, my mind immediately flew to the conclusion that if _Jauffre_ was in Bruma, something had gone _very wrong_ at Cloud Ruler Temple, and a cold fear drained the blood from my face.

"Where's Martin?" I asked, unable to mask my dread.

"Sarina dear," the Countess had put her hand on my arm, and I swivelled to stare at it, and then her. "Don't distress yourself. He is _fine_ -" she continued, but was cut off.

"Sarina, I'm here."

Everything was happening at once – I turned back to the doorway Jauffre had been standing at, as I had heard _Martin's_ voice answering my question.

 _He is here._ He had stepped into the room around Jauffre, and Baurus was there too, right by his side. Both had stopped a few steps into the dining hall, and he was staring at me in a disbelief that mirrored my own.

The Countess' hand fell from my arm as I took a step, and then several faster steps, toward him, my feet carrying me forward before I knew what I was doing.

He was dressed in a finely-sewn tunic of blue and trousers and boots of black, all edged in elaborate embroidered gold, and over the top of those wore a brown cloak, swept and pinned across his shoulder. He stood tall - he seemed taller than I remembered him being - with his hair tied back from his face and a short, neat, stubbly beard and moustache which made him appear older than when I had left him. But his smile; his smile was just as I had remembered it as I had longed for his company – and those eyes, which where bright and enlivened and staring at _me_ , while I took in the sight of him, set me on fire.

"Martin?" I whispered, unable to quite believe it was him. He was beautiful; I couldn't help but stare as the desire to run to him swept over me, and it took all of my remaining will to stop myself from doing so. At the moment of seeing him, I no longer feared or cared about why he was in Bruma; I was consumed by relief that he _was_ here.

Belatedly remembering exactly who I was addressing, and the company which we were conduction our reunion within, I stopped stumbling toward him, and lowered my eyes, dipping into the curtsy I had been taught to reserve for the Emperor.

"I am more thankful than you can imagine, to see that you are all right," I couldn't hide the relief in my voice, so didn't even attempt to.

"Sarina," he muttered hastily, in embarrassment, and I heard him approach me.

I looked up, wondering what I had done wrong to cause _that_ reaction in him, as he stopped in front of me and extended his hands, to help me rise. He gave me a kind smile as I placed my hands in his, and he lifted me back to my feet.

"You have raised an army, for Bruma, and for me," he said warmly, but more loudly, so that all in the room might hear him. He raised his eyebrows to me, as he nodded toward me slightly. "You bow to nobody."

The elation I felt in seeing him and hearing his voice swept through me again. It was a force so powerful that I couldn't have masked my response to him with any amount of aristocratic schooling, and I felt as though I was glowing with happiness. "That's not _quite_ how it's supposed to work, you know," I whispered to him, as I tried not to laugh from my joy.

He raised a single eyebrow at me now, his smile shifting into one of amusement. "It soon will be," he murmured back, a determined gleam in his gaze. "I missed you," he added softly, squeezing my hands a little.

My heart fluttered - oh, how I had missed him, too. I was certain that we could have carried on this way, grinning foolishly and teasing and staring at one another, had we not been in a room of soldiers and officials planning the future of thousands of lives.

Martin must have realised this as well, as he lowered one of my hands, turning us and unashamedly twining his fingers in the hand he retained hold of, as he faced Countess Carvain and the Captain. The humour in their expressions was plainly written; on the Captain's face more so than the Countess', but standing next to Martin, my heart filled with relief, I didn't care. Some things, some _people_ , were more important than protocol.

"I apologise for the delays, Narina, but if you might wait for me just a little longer?" he asked her familiarly.

I glanced up at him, wondering at how at ease he seemed to be, and remembering how he had feared becoming Emperor when I had left him. How long he had been stationed in Bruma? What had brought about this change? He was still, undeniably, himself, but there seemed to be an added layer of command, or confidence, to his bearing, which suited him well. Whatever the reason for it, I was proud of him, and that he had come to terms with the role he had inherited.

"No – Sire, please," she spoke hurriedly, holding up a hand, "don't apologise. Take all the time you need."

He thanked her, then turned us both again, and directed us toward the door that lead out of the dining hall.

"Martin," I whispered to him hurriedly, as a slightly nervous laughter at how our departure would appear to those within the room bubbled within me. "What is going on – where are we going?"

He cast me a slightly uncertain look, and crossed his brows a little, as he stopped before Baurus. "I thought you...but aren't you..?" he indicated me briefly; the state I was in, I assumed. My clothes were rumpled, my hair was dishevelled and windswept, and my boots were muddy.

"You don't _want_ to stay for the meeting, do you?" he asked me quietly, as he raised my hand in his and held it out for Baurus to take.

"My Lady, it is good to see you," Baurus greeted me, as formal as I remembered him being.

I flickered Baurus a glance and understood; Martin hadn't intended on leaving the room, or the meeting that I had barged in on, with me.

Jauffre spoke up before I did, this time. "It would be better if you didn't stay," he told me bluntly.

" _Jauffre_ ," Martin hissed at him.

I fixed Jauffre with a blank stare, wondering with some exasperation if, despite everything I had done, he still believed that I should have been locked away in the White-Gold Tower?

Then I remembered that brusqueness was simply part of Jauffre's being.

Did he know what had happened to Caroline, I wondered suddenly? He must have done, to not question why she was not by my side at that very moment. And yet, there was no sympathy in his expression; no signs of grief at her loss.

"And why is that?" I asked him cooly, raising my head to the Grandmaster, as Baurus placed my hand in the crook of his elbow, to guide me out of the room, I supposed.

Jauffre was unaffected by my response to his statement, and explained. "We are nearly completed here," he told me. "At this stage of planning, your inclusion will only give you confusion, and delay us, in having to explain what is happening," he added, casting Martin a glance, and addressing the last to him.

"It would be better for Lady Passero to leave, and for us to finish here, Sire. You might explain the whole of it to her, later," Jauffre suggested.

"And my Lady," he turned back to me before either Martin or I could reply. "I am sure you could use some sleep, while we finish up here," he sounded almost concerned for me, though I told myself that I could have been imagining it.

Martin nodded now, and so I felt that I needed to agree with Jauffre's recommendation as well. I reminded myself to try and not take offence at _everything_ the Grandmaster said.

I nodded as well. "I understand," I glanced at Martin, taking in the sight of him again; a picture of regal bearing, betrayed only by the familiarity and warmth of his manners and smiles. I had not had the time to teach him otherwise, and I was immensely glad that I hadn't instructed him to hide himself; a soul such as his didn't warrant to be masked and suppressed by tradition and ceremony.

He caught me looking at him and smiled reassuringly. I thought that he seemed a little tired, as he blinked down at me. "I do not wish to let you out of my sights," he said in a low voice, seemingly unfazed by Baurus and Jauffre hearing what he had to say, "but Baurus will take care of you, and I will join you soon, and explain everything," he vowed.

Accepting his promise, I was glad to note that Martin now appeared to trust Baurus as I did. I admitted to myself that I _was_ quite tired, doubtless from the long ride, and from the range of emotions I'd been overwhelmed by in such a short time frame; moving swiftly between guilt, dread, purest delight and utter relief.

"I look forward to hearing your story," I replied to Martin with a wistful smile. As much as I appreciated Baurus' supporting arm, I missed Martin's touch already, and wished I could reach out to him again. To see him, so happy, and so briefly, and then to leave him, regardless of how long he might be at this meeting, was almost worse than not seeing him at all.

Martin assured me again that he would not be long, with a gentle touch of his hand to my arm, and then Baurus lead me from the dining hall. The door was closed softly behind us as we left, and I exhaled a great, shaking breath of air that I hadn't realised I had been holding.

"Are you all right, my Lady?" Baurus asked immediately, dutiful as ever, his eyes searching mine.

I saw concern there, and nodded, "I am fine," I assured him, "though I feel as though I am about to both laugh and cry at once," I added, as I shook my head in wonder. "To think, you have all been here, in Bruma..." I trailed off.

Baurus didn't look convinced, but didn't speak again until we had crossed the Great Hall, and entered the doorway that lead to the labyrinth of hallways in the wing of the castle that contained the guest chambers.

"I heard about what happened to Caroline," he said once we were within the corridor, with some hesitance. "We all did," he glanced at me, and the sadness in him reminded me of when we had first met; in the labyrinth underneath the Imperial City. "I am very sorry," he added stiffly.

Melancholy pressed against me, and I could not hold it back. I cast my eyes down as the feeling broke over me, dousing the elation I had felt in seeing Martin, like water extinguishing a flame. I stared at the flagstones as we stepped across them, and said eventually, quietly, "So am I."

Ohtesse's treatments had been healing something of the grief within me, so that I was not rendered immobile by the loss of Caroline, but she could not heal away everything. And in truth, I didn't want her to.

Baurus didn't speak again as he lead me along corridor after corridor, and I was relieved by his silence. I cast my mind out for anything else to think about, and settled on the intriguing meeting I had arrived during. I told myself that if there was an attack about to be made, as I assumed there must be, it would be better to focus on what needed to be done to secure our freedom, than the cost we had paid to achieve it.

"We're here," Baurus spoke up, finally. I let go of his elbow, as he turned to one of the doors, which looked like every other door we had passed. He unlocked it with a key from a chain on his sword belt.

I wondered again; exactly how long had the Blades and Martin been stationed in Bruma, for Baurus to have learned the layout of hallways that were built to confuse those who didn't know them? I watched him as he pushed the door open and motion for me to enter.

I wouldn't have to wait too long to have my questions answered, and in the meantime, I could rest, and recover.

"I will remain here on duty, in case you have need of anything," Baurus nodded his head respectfully. "Please don't hesitate to ask, if you do," he added.

"Thank you," I tried to smile as I entered the room, but the weariness I had begun to feel before we had left the dining hall, coupled with the reminder of Caroline's passing, made it difficult to do so.

The door was closed behind me, and I was standing alone, in a room that was similar to the one Caroline and I had stayed in during our brief visit to Castle Bruma, though this room was clearly being lived in by someone. It only took a brief glance for me to understand that it was Martin's guest room.

I walked to the table and stared down at letters bearing my own hand writing; the ones I had penned to Martin during the journey around Cyrodiil. I trailed my fingertips over the top-most letter, reading my ridiculous attempt to hide what had happened in Anvil in my words. Beside my letters were our _Xarxes_ notes, some quills, and the hateful book itself.

I would have ordinarily felt concerned about what others were assuming about our relationship, in my being brought to his room instead of to one of my own, but for the first time, I wasn't. Surprisingly, I felt somewhat relieved to be there. Reuniting with Martin, however briefly; placing my hands in his as he helped me to rise and feeling the genuine warmth in his voice when he had said that he missed me; he was a balm to my aching heart.

And despite being raised within a system that demanded propriety and virtue be maintained, I was able to easily cast them off, I found, as I stared at my letters piled on the table, and wondered at the contentedness that was rising within me, in being here. It was as though those restrictions I had lived my life by didn't apply to Martin and I, and as the thought struck me, I wondered if this was a part of what it was to be in love; the want to give, live within and enjoy each other's affection to the level that made it impossible to notice or care about external opinions.

The world could keep whatever gossip they liked about the arrangement between the new Emperor and the Hero of Kvatch, I decided.

 _But as for Sarina and Martin?_ I smiled, letting my question hang in my thoughts as I turned away from the letters, notes and _Xarxes._ I was excited to find out, together, what the answer to that question would be.


	43. A Path through the Fog

" _Sarina?"_

I heard Martin calling my name.

I opened my eyes and raised my head, turning toward the sound, and realised that the warmth of the bathing pool had lulled me into a light doze. I had retreated to the chamber not long after I had been brought to Martin's room, when I had realised that I smelled of smoke and horse and travel, and the desire to be clean outweighed the desire to sleep.

I listened, wondering if it really _had_ been Martin who had called me, but heard nothing else to confirm it. In the haze of semi-wakefulness, I told myself that I had only dreamed of his voice. The meeting could not be finished yet.

_Unless you've slept, and for longer than you realise._

I blinked blearily and 'hmphed' at myself, lowering my head back onto the edge of the bathing pool and closing my eyes again.

"Sarina?" his voice came again, clearer and with an edge of anxiety to it.

I sat up properly this time. He _was_ back from the meeting.

I cleared my throat. "I am here," I called out quickly.

My reply had been muted by the steam, but he must have heard me, because I recognised the swift sound of approach from within the main room.

I ducked down into the water, up to my neck, and flushed. Nerves sprung on me and my heart began to race, as I realised that I had called him into the bathing chamber, while I was still immersed in the water. There was no time to get out and grab a towel, let alone dress.

 _Calm down,_ I told myself, somewhat futilely, but tried nevertheless. _He's a healer, and a grown man; he's seen a woman's body before. And you have the water, and the steam, for cover, if you are that bothered by-_

My thoughts were interrupted as the door to the bathing room was flung open. Martin paused there, staring wide-eyed through the steam at me.

I stared back at him. He was like a vision from a dream. Martin looked just as he had in the dining hall; tall, regal, finely dressed, but with his expression exposed, betraying the urgent anxiety I had heard in his voice a moment earlier.

"Is something the matter?" I asked in a rush, as nerves of a different kind crashed over me like a wave. My thoughts scattered to all manner of horrors; from something having gone wrong at the meeting, to the Great gate being opened upon Bruma, right now.

My voice seemed to break through whatever thought had captured Martin, and he shook his head and hurriedly stepped into the room.

"Of course – no, nothing – nothing is wrong," he tried to explain, seemingly unable to settle on his words, as he distractedly strode straight down the wide stairs that lead into the bath, fully clothed – cloak, boots and all.

"Martin-!" I exclaimed.

"For a moment, when I couldn't find you," he didn't seem to have heard me, or notice that the water was slowing his approach, "I thought you had gone again," he said in a vulnerable voice that twisted my heart and made it ache.

He stopped before me, immersed to his elbows, and continued to just stare at me, with all the disbelief and wonder that I had seen in the dining hall. Somehow, now that we were without our audience, and in the heady air and dim lighting, there was a tenderness to his look that I hadn't noticed earlier, and my nerves with their edge of panic smoothed out, drifting away in the warm water, as insubstantial as foam.

I smiled a small smile, longing to put him at ease, and shook my head. "I am here," I repeated to assure him, more quietly this time.

He smiled in response; a beautiful, wide smile that made his eyes shine and my heart sing. His whole face encompassed relief and joy all at once, as he reached out both of his hands to me, and placed them either side of my face tenderly.

"Let me look at you," he murmured, asking in a hush, as water dripped from the elbows of his tunic and back into the bathing pool.

For a moment I wondered if he was asking me to stand up, but when he carried on, I had the thought that he was somehow yet to realise where we were, and what state I was in.

"Oh, I have dreamed of this face," he told me with a weighty sigh, his eyes searching me; for what, I wasn't certain.

"You dreamed of me?" I asked carefully. Of course, I knew that he must have, or how else could he have sent the letter to Count Indarys in time to have the Cheydinhal legions come to my assistance? But the way he had said it; with an ache, wrapped in longing, made me both flush anew, and curiously wonder what he had seen while he had slept.

"Many times," he let go of my face, to close the last of the gap between us as he stepped forward, and lifted me up into his embrace.

I squeaked a little at the unexpected movement, as water dripped down my shoulders and back, swirled around us, and then calmed. I settled onto his chest as Martin's arms enclosed me completely. I heard and felt the warm glow of a restoration spell, as he pressed his temple to mine; his lips close to my ear.

"Oh, my love," he seemed anguished as he spoke softly, and the sound of his spell chimed around his words. "I am so sorry about Caroline."

I closed my eyes as an icy vice grabbed my chest and squeezed, making it difficult to breathe, and felt his restorative spell intensify. The elation of being in Martin's arms, finally, and the wrenching pain of losing Caroline – it was too much to bear.

I shook my head, torn between a need to remember Caroline as she deserved to be remembered, and a desire that my reunion with Martin not turn into one of immobilising sorrow. "Please, I can't..." I whispered.

He mustn't have heard me again. "It is impossible to think that a soul as bright and strong as hers is no longer with us."

"Martin, please," I tried again, taking hold of the front of his sodden tunic and pulling back from him slightly, so that we could see one another again. I stared up to him, meeting his look of compassion with one of pleading.

 _Don't make me talk about Caroline,_ I left unsaid between us, and tried to convey this with my imploring look.

After a moment of searching one another's eyes, he nodded that he understood, and his healing spell dissipated around us, taking with it some of the coldness that had gripped me when he had ventured toward what had happened to my dear friend and guardian.

I nodded in gratitude, as I loosened my grip, and sighed with relief. His drenched tunic was thick under my hands, and I was all but bared to him; our closeness bizarrely the only thing protecting my modesty, or whatever remained of it in this situation.

Martin frowned and opened his mouth to say something, but then seemed to _finally_ notice where we were. He stared, his mouth still partially open and then his eyes widened. He turned his head to look either side of us quickly, as if to confirm exactly where he was.

"I...appear to have stormed in on you while you were bathing," he stated the obvious in a low, guilty voice, his eyes meeting mine again.

A part of me wondered why he hadn't realised it sooner; wondered if perhaps his mind had been addled by his continued work on the _Xarxes_ while I had been gone, as Jauffre had warned us it would. I felt a pang of regret that I had left him at all, though I knew that it couldn't have been helped. Everything we strived for came with its price.

My silence must have sent Martin a different kind of message; his hold on me began to tentatively loosen. I realised that he was about to let go of me and step back, out of what I could only assume was borne of the ambiguity in our relationship, despite his making half of Cyrodiil believe that we were engaged to one another.

I wasn't ready to let go of him, now, or ever for that matter, and a need to hold Martin and be held by him prevailed over all other thoughts, needs, fears and wants. I closed the gap between us and leaned into him, wrapping my arms around his neck and embracing him tightly.

He caught me around the waist, to keep me from toppling us, but then relaxed and gently eased his grasp as I spoke.

"Please. Don't let go. Not yet."

"Um," was his reply. He swallowed.

I closed my eyes and breathed in, savouring being close to him, and I felt Martin exhale with a shaky laugh. I eased myself back, and questioned his response with a glance. He didn't seem to know what to do with himself.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Nothing - nothing. I only..." the corner of his mouth lifted into a hesitant half-smile and he shook his head, seeming to rethink. His reply was quiet. "I was worried that I had scared you, the morning that you left," he revealed, as he loosened one of his hands from my waist, and raised it, to brush my wet hair back from my cheek and tuck it behind my ear.

"Scared me?" I crossed my brows. There was much I had encountered over the past months that did scare me, but Martin was not one of them.

His hand lingered, his fingertips glancing below my ear, as he frowned and nodded, his eyes fixated on the point where his hand touched. "Yes. For taking hold of you, the way that I did, and then kissing you with such ferocity..." he trailed off, as his fingers traced a path down my neck, then across the curve of my shoulder, his eyes following his hand's movement all the while.

I caught his hand with mine, so that he would stop looking at it, and meet my eyes instead.

"Martin," I said simply, with a gentle squeeze to his hand. "The thought of you sustained me while I was gone," I whispered.

He shifted his gaze back to mine, burning with determination, and with something I had never seen or felt in such intensity before; raw, unashamed passion.

The look swept through me like a spell, but rather than swooning as I might have done months earlier without being able to help myself, I was able to meet his gaze, with my own determination encouraging me to be brave and live this moment we had with one another.

"But," he sounded unsteady, as he took my hand and slowly brought it up to his lips. "I should not have done that, without asking you," his breath brushed my fingers, then he placed a gentle kiss to them. "It was very...selfish, of me, to try to...take what I wanted," he decided on his words, and I saw a flicker of regret in his gaze. "I would never rush you like that, Sarina. I'm sorry."

I had not thought it possible that I could love him more than I did, but his words proved me wrong. Everything had happened so quickly that morning at Cloud Ruler Temple, and then with the Bruma gate and all that had passed at the castle – not to mention the lengthy journey around Cyrodiil – I hadn't wondered about that fleeting moment between us in his bedroom, beyond being stirred by the memory of his lips, his hands, his intensity.

I barely contained a shudder. "My love," I extracted my hand from his, so I could raise it to his cheek. He watched the movement, his freed hand falling naturally back to my arm. "I don't believe you to be capable of hurting me. But, I am sorry, if you were at war over something that I had thought to be..." I considered, wanting to be truthful with him. "Well, surprising, but _certainly_ not unwanted," I settled.

He smiled a little, as the hand on my arm slid around me, dipping under the water to rest on the curve of my back. "As I am beginning to realise, now that you are returned," he said, then shook his head again, in disbelief. "So much has happened, Sarina. I hardly know where to begin."

I wasn't ready to lose his attention to the discussion that I knew we must have, about why he and the Blades were here, and what the meeting with the Countess had been in preparation for. With my hand still on his cheek, I trailed my thumb along the side of his neatly-trimmed stubble, in an attempt to distract him. "Hmm, I can see that. You grew a beard."

He huffed a half-laugh, and I was relieved to feel an easiness between us return. "Do you like it?" he asked, his eyes shining.

I honestly wasn't certain about it; it made him look more distinguished, but also a little wild; a little roguish. It would take some getting used to, but for his sake I nodded, wanting to laugh suddenly as well. "It's quite dashing, really," I decided.

He raised his eyebrows at this, pretending to look abashed, as his other hand slipped around me to settle with the first, drawing me close to him in a slow, smooth motion. "Dashing? Nobody has called me _dashing_ before."

I suppressed a giggle at the way he formed the word on his lips, enjoying the feeling of his sodden-clothed body smoothed against mine as I played with the clasp of his cloak on his shoulder with one of my hands.

"Perhaps they have been lost for words," I posed in jest, gazing up at him, feeling cheeky. The clasp opened, and the cloak fell from his shoulders, the material splaying out over the water and drifting away from us by some force unseen; forgotten.

"Oh, Sarina," he sighed and closed his eyes, resting his forehead on mine. It was a contact, a closeness of ours, that I had missed dearly. I closed my eyes too, revelling in his intimacy, and I no longer wanted to laugh as he nudged my nose with his. I lifted myself up to meet his lips, but he held us apart, barely.

"Perhaps they do not see _me_ at all," he murmured, his breath fluttering across my lips.

 _How could they not see one who shines so brightly,_ I wondered, but didn't say anything as his lips ghosted mine. Though denied for the moment, I found the anticipation was exhilarating, and made me want him more.

He paused again, to ask in a hush, "Is this all right?"

Given our entangled state, and that I was already completely naked beneath the water, the question should have made me laugh. I stopped myself from claiming his lips in reply, as my heart twisted at the thought of him being tormented over a moment that had passed between us.

Or he was teasing me, but I could stand it no longer. I was determined to find words to banish any uncertainty he carried about my feelings, if that's what it was that was holding him back.

"Please, Martin," I whispered, retreating only far enough so I could look into his eyes again. "Trust me. I am not afraid of you. I _love_ you."

His hands drifted along my back, as he stared down and accepted my declaration. "And I you, my love. You are exquisite," he sighed. "Kind," he leaned down to the curve of my neck, and placed a small, soft kiss there. "Brave," he continued, and placed another kiss beside the first, along my neck. I barely contained a whimper, feeling light-headed. "Beautiful," he breathed the word onto my cheek, and I shivered.

He shifted, and gently pressed his lips to mine. I sighed with relief, as I leaned forward to him.

I put everything I had into our kiss, to let Martin know that he was loved. In amongst all of the fear, the uncertainty and the loss that had been endured, Martin's brightness, even when he had been at his lowest, had been a beacon of hope, a guiding light, to me, and he deserved to know it. He was beautiful, body and soul, and I knew that I was ready, to give everything to him. Our kiss deepened; hands grasped and caressed, and all thoughts outside of each other and the now fled.

I was very aware that Martin and I were headed down a path that would lead us to expressing our love for one another completely. Despite being a maiden and having no experience with a man, the thought of claiming the night for ourselves because we _wanted_ to, not because we were required to, thrilled me. It wasn't about the endless quests or the demands of the Empire around us, or the uncertainty of the future, or even merely a distraction from the recent past; I was committed to him, because it felt as though the time, _our_ time, was now.

Martin retreated from the kiss but retained his hold on me, as he looked down with swollen lips and clouded eyes. "We need to get out of this bath," he said in a low, solemn voice.

I laughed softly at the seriousness of his tone, and lowered my forehead to his chest, catching my breath. He laughed warmly in response, and kissed the top of my head.

"Sarina," he lifted my chin, so we could look on one another again. Briefly, I could see some war within him, in his eyes, as I gazed into those depths. Then he groaned and looked up, to the roof of the bathing chamber in frustration.

"Jauffre thinks I am telling you all that has passed since you left," he told the roof, then looked back down to me, shaking his head, at himself it seemed.

I laughed again, detangling myself from Martin, though I had no intention of leaving him. I took his hand and turned, backing toward the stairs of the bathing pool, with him in tow.

"I'm sure he doesn't think that at all," I told Martin smoothly, as I looked up at him through my lashes, feeling bolder, and more resolved, than I perhaps ever had.

Martin watched me as I walked us backwards, and reached his other hand out to me. I took it, as we came to the edge of the stairs, and he stopped me from going any further.

"I don't want to talk about the future," Martin spoke in a low, determined voice as his grip on my hands strengthened. "Or the past, or the darkness that is about to be unleashed," he added hastily, leaning down to me. "I don't want to talk at all," he whispered onto my lips.

I shook my head to him as we parted, pushing through the thought of whatever darkness was waiting for us in the future, by focussing solely on the man in front of me. "I am leaving this bath for one reason," I told him quietly.

He waited for me to continue, his eyes flickering over me.

"Because I am yours, and you are mine," I continued, in a vow. "For tonight, Tamriel doesn't own us."

I paused in the act of turning to walk up the stairs, wanting to make something clear to him, in case it wasn't obvious. "Though, you shall have to guide me. I have never done this before," I couldn't help but flush at the words, and at how small, and young, that speaking them made me feel.

Martin's eyes never left mine as he detangled our hands and reached forward, capturing my face and kissing me lovingly.

"I would be honoured," his voice rumbled over me, as we parted. He took my hand, and then, with our fingers entwined, guided me out of the water and away from the foggy mists of the bathing chamber.

–

Stories that I had read, whether glancing over or detailing the act of making love, usually talked of the hero or heroine feeling more complete after the act. That they hadn't known they hadn't been _finished_ , until they had given their whole self to their other half, and received the missing piece of their soul, as though it was the reward for realising their love.

I had been sure this was a literary device; for surely, no person truly needed another to make them feel whole. I had read of it while I had been betrothed to Ebel Septim, while I had been attempting to find a way to love a man who I wasn't certain wanted to be with me, to prevent us from entering into a dour and loveless arrangement, to rival the Count and Countess Caro.

But throughout my endeavours, I had been contented with a certainty that a part of me wasn't lost, which might only be found by him. I knew who I was, and where I belonged.

Or, so I had thought.

The room was chilly, but neither of us had wanted to leave each other's arms to stoke the fireplace, so we cuddled close to one another in the bed, under the thick woollen blankets.

I felt...better than I could remember feeling, for a long time. It wasn't just the aftermath of making love to one another, though that was certainly a major part of it. I felt safe, and loved. I felt contented, and, as much as I hated to admit it, _complete_.

But the books had it wrong. It wasn't that a piece of me had been missing. I had been myself, and then there was Martin, and I had become more.

Martin's hand trailed up and down my shoulder gently, as I lay in his arms, my ear pressed to his shoulder and my own hand splayed over his stomach. His heart beat had slowed, as we lay there, relaxed and entwined, but we were both too unwilling to lose this precious time together to sleep.

I felt Martin's head move above me and he kissed the top of my head. He breathed in slowly, then sighed on the exhale. His hand stopped stroking my shoulder, and held it instead.

I could feel that he was preparing to say something, and while I still wasn't willing to return to the world that would grab at both of us and pull us in different directions as it liked, I waited. He could tell me whatever was on his mind in his own time, while I traced idle patterns on his chest with my hand, in the hope that it would relax him again.

"We need a Great Sigil stone," he spoke up eventually, with another sigh.

My hand stilled, as I tilted back to look up at him.

He was watching me. "That's what the second key is," he continued, then turned his eyes to the roof of our guest room. "That is why we are in Bruma," he added, with a touch of bitterness.

I turned my head back down, pressing into his shoulder a little more determinately as I stretched my arm over him, so I was holding onto him tightly. "We're going to let the Dawn open the Great gate?" I confirmed softly.

I felt Martin's nod, and then he shifted, turning onto his side, so that we were facing one another. "Yes," he said, rather quietly, with a confidence that was only betrayed by the fear I could see in his eyes. "And with the army you have brought me, we _will_ succeed. We will not lose the city; I am certain of it."

I knew that he was thinking about Kvatch; how the city hadn't stood a chance, once the Great gate had been opened, and saw how it was tormenting him that he had to allow such a thing to happen again.

I raised my hand to his cheek, and lifted myself up to him, kissing him softly, briefly; an attempt to ease his mind.

I had intended on retreating then, to speak words of reassurance, or if nothing else, of love, but he brought me back to him the moment our lips had parted, covering my mouth with his and gently tilting my chin, to deepen, and prolong, our kiss. I gratefully met him, kiss for kiss, not wanting to speak of anything.

Thoughts and images of fires and burning stone gates and daedric monsters tumbled over me, and each time were pushed back as we urged each other to delay it, for as long as we were able to. We shifted with a rustle of woollen blankets; I lay back, as he leaned over me. His lips never left me as his hand reached out to grasp mine above us, before we were lost in each other for a second time, and thought of Oblivion no more.


	44. From Ice to Fire

The night was dark, and the air was frigid. Gusts of wind sent flurries of snow swirling across the expanse of tundra that stretched out before Bruma's southern gate.

Nobody spoke within the ranks, but the air was electric. The sounds of rustling chainmail and softly clanking plate armour as soldiers shuffled in an attempt to keep warm were all that replied to the howling wind; or perhaps it was wolves, crying out in the distance.

"It won't be long now," Martin murmured, by my side. I half-turned at the sound of his voice, and noticed he was pointing at a spot in front of us, on the plain.

"See how the snow changes direction, when it hits that point?" he asked me quietly.

I watched for a moment, noticing that he was right; the wind carried the tiny specks of ice in one direction, and then stopped; hitting an invisible wall.

"There are Dawn agents over there?" I asked him softly, turning my head slightly to speak to him, but keeping my eyes fixed on the anomaly. If there were; didn't the army standing nearby give them reason to pause?

I saw Martin shake his head, in my peripheral. "I don't think so; not unless they want to be killed when the Gate erupts."

It was no coincidence that we had chosen the dead of night to persuade the Mythic Dawn to initiate the siege on Bruma. Countess Carvain had reasoned that the daedra who would spew out of the gates to attack us were creatures of fire, so the hope was that the wintry conditions would hinder them, to give our own people an advantage.

Anything that could give us a fighting chance, and the time we needed, to retrieve the Great Sigil stone.

I scanned the edges of the plain, searching the shadows, wondering where the Dawn agent or agents who were spawning the gate were hiding. Of course, it was only our assumption that they must be out there, somewhere, operating under instructions. Despite our knowledge of what awaited us once the gates had opened; none of us knew exactly what made a gate form where it did in the first place. Was it a ritual that called open another portal to Mehrunes Dagon's realm, or was the appearance more random, made possible only by the absence of the dragonfires in the Imperial City?

A low rumbling shook the ground beneath our feet, very suddenly. The soldiers began to mutter and fidget.

"Hold!" I could hear Captain Burd calling out, from down the line.

I clasped my hand around the new ebony bow that I had been given that afternoon, and reached back for an arrow, taking deep, deliberate breaths in an attempt to keep myself calm. My Kvatch armour clinked as I shifted, but the sound of it was drowned out as the rumbling beneath our feet intensified.

"What are they waiting for?" I heard Baurus ask in frustration, from Martin's other side.

The knowledge that I was not only about to witness the construction of a Great gate, but run headlong into it, sent a ripple of fear through me.

It wasn't an all-consuming, crippling fear, though; the type I had felt when I had been faced with the decision to follow Farwil Indarys or not. After Caroline, I had promised myself that there would be no more gates; nothing, nobody, could make me step through that stone archway again. I had steeled myself with this promise.

But now? Perhaps it was that, that morning, I had woken with an all-encompassing resolve; larger and more determined than anything I had ever felt. From within it, I had known that I would do whatever needed doing to bring an end to the Oblivion crisis, so that we might start to live our lives once more.

And besides; I had run into Oblivion for Martin, before I had even known him. I couldn't pretend that I wouldn't do it again, or a hundred times more, if it was required of me in order to keep him safe.

Without him, all hope would be lost.

I glanced up, as the sky above the sphere began to churn and boil, and the colour seeped out of the clouds, turning them blacker than black. At the same time the edges of the clouds began to glow, in a deep, ominous red colour.

I glanced at Martin, and saw that he was also looking up to the sky, with a frown etched onto his face. Lightning flashed in the sky, and lit up his face in pale light, for a moment.

The Emperor had asked me to find him, save him, and give him the Amulet. I had achieved one of those three requests; for until the dragonfires were relit, Martin would be a target. The Emperor had also told me that it was my task to close the Oblivion gates. I had thought these to be two separate quests, but as I remembered Uriel Septim's words again, I had the thought that the tasks were inexorably linked; impossible to achieve separately. To save Martin, I had to close the jaws of Oblivion.

The rumbling increased very suddenly and a loud _CRACK_ rent the air. The tiny flurries of snow were pushed outward from the invisible sphere we had been staring at, and dark stones pushed their way up out of the ground, in a churning mass of billowing grey smoke and leaping, orange fire.

I watched the gate build itself with wide eyes; transfixed.

The stones tumbled over and climbed one another, joining at the top, in the middle to form an archway. As soon as they were sealed, six bright slashes of flame reached out from the arch; three either side of the gate, like great clawed hands. They grabbed hold of the sides, anchoring there, and as they settled into position, the air between them tore apart, revealing the portal that lead to Oblivion.

The ground surrounding the base of the stones blazed for a moment, as soon as the portal had activated, and then the flames were extinguished, leaving blackened earth. Drifting tendrils of smoke curled upward from the land, and the smoke was immediately captured by the icy wind, dissipating into nothing.

"Two more," I whispered, as I watched the gate and raised my bow, the arrow ready for whatever hell-beast clawed its way into Tamriel.

"It's time, Sire," Jauffre spoke up from his position; he was in front of us. "May Talos protect you."

"May Talos guide and protect us all," Martin echoed hurriedly, raising his voice, as he called out to the soldiers within the region. "My comrades!" he cried out into the night, his voice booming with an authority that I'd never heard from him before, and my heart swelled with pride in him.

"The Empire will stand or fall, by what we do here tonight!"

I took my eyes off the gate, and watched him for a moment. The very sight of him gave me additional strength. He was yet to be officially coronated, but tonight, there was no doubt that he was Tamriel's Emperor.

He wore the armour of the Imperial Dragon; plates of steel with gold and silver swirls embossed on the breastplate, down the front of the boots, and either side of the helmet. He had only foregone wearing the gauntlets; instead leaving his hands free, so that he could cast spells, should it be required. We hoped that it would not. A longsword swung at his hip, in its scabbard, but it was the Blade's task to ensure that he never needed to draw it.

Martin continued his speech, as the ground beneath us began to rumble again. He spoke of Kvatch; of our families and loved ones; rallying the courage of the assembled legions from all over Cyrodiil, and as he finished, as though it had been waiting for him to stop, a second gate began to claw its way out of the earth, not far from the first.

As the flames of the second gate were flung out and found nooks within the archway to settle themselves upon, a wave of daedra; Dremora; burst out from the first gate.

"For Bruma, and the Empire!" Martin called out.

This was the signal that the armies had been waiting for; with a great cry, the Skingrad legions surged forward, their swords drawn, toward the advancing daedra, while a group of archers from the Chorrol and Cheydinhal guard took up their positions, and drew; ready to fire at their commander's word.

The rest of the soldiers remained where they were, for the moment.

Those of us who remained standing with Martin were suddenly enclosed in a sphere of golden light; a protective ward, cast by a Dunmer Battlemage who wore the colours of the Anvil guard. The mage had ensured us that we would be able to fire from within, but that no spell or arrow would breach the barrier from outside of it.

The Dremora who had exited the first Oblivion gate were no match for the mass of guards that had met them, but we were under no illusion that this would be an easy battle. Remembering the impossible number of enormous, Dremora-ish creatures that had met us inside of the Leyawiin gate, I knew that it was only a matter of time before such a force were ordered forward into Tamriel, to meet the Cyrodiil armies head on.

A wave of daedra launched themselves out of the second gate, and then more rushed out of the first. For a time, we simply watched the battle unfolding, as our superior organisation and numbers made short work of the meagre daedric attack. From within the protection of the ward spell, I felt entirely disconnected from the battle that had begun, and though my hand itched to fire the arrow I had prepared, what felt like hours earlier, I waited.

Wave after wave of daedra rushed out of the two Oblivion gates. Before long, the ground shook beneath us again, and a third gate appeared. The larger, more formidable Dremora we had encountered in the Leyawiin gate surged out of the portal the moment the licks of flame had anchored and the gateway torn its way open.

What remained of the Leyawiin guard, and the infantry from Chorrol, surged forward to join the Skingrad fighters, and bolster their numbers. Most of the Anvil guard, and the Cheydinhal guards who weren't archers, remained back, ever watchful. From the looks of those I could see, they were itching to join the battle, too.

_Chink._

I startled as an arrow bounced off the ward in front of us, and felt Martin catch my arm, out of surprise I supposed.

I flashed him a glance, and he let go of my arm, and raised his hands again; ready to cast a spell.

"See out there, beyond the third gate?" Maritn asked me, and the Blades around us who were within the barrier.

_Chink. Chink-chink._

I blinked as more arrows hit the ward and fell to the ground, and exhaled a shaky breath, reminding myself that the spell would hold, and focused on where Martin had indicated.

I nodded when I saw it, and heard one of the Blades speak up. "The shadow?"

"Yes," Martin confirmed. "That is where the Great gate will appear."

 _Chink-chink._ Arrows kept firing upon us, dropping to the ground before they reached us, bouncing off the shield like raindrops falling against a window.

Sounds of battlecries and exploding spells and daedric screams rent the air, as we saw the Anvil guard rush forward to join the attack.

Martin's hand was on my arm again, and I turned to look at him. While his whole body; the way he held himself and his expression; spoke of confidence, his eyes betrayed fear, as he gripped my arm urgently.

"You will have minutes, once the Gate has opened," he reminded me weightily. "You must run, like you have never run before, no matter what is happening around you."

I nodded with resolve, turning back to look at the shadow; the mass of darkest darkness, building between the two other gates, and exhaled a breath I hadn't realised I'd been holding. "I know. I am ready."

He felt his hesitance; his uncertainty, but he didn't speak of it, as he let go of my arm.

_Chink._

We waited, and nervousness built within me. It was nearly time.

–

When Martin had told me, earlier that morning from the warmth and safety of our room, that he would be joining, and leading, the battle, I had tried, desperately, to dissuade him from taking up arms.

" _The Dawn want you to expose yourself!" I cried, as fear leapt into my chest and I grasped his hand with both of mine._

" _How am I to win the trust and loyalty of Cyrodiil, if I am unwilling to do what I ask others to do in my name?" he countered reasonably, with no room for movement in his tone, and the words were put in a way that I knew he had spoken them before; probably to Jauffre._

_But even so; I continued to plead with him, reminding him that if he was killed, the lives of all of Tamriel were forfeit._

" _I won't be killed," his eyes burned with a stubborn confidence. "But the time for hiding while others put their lives at risk is over."_

_His words echoed within me, entirely toppling the resolve I had steeled myself with after Caroline's death. His confidence rallied my courage; the fear I felt for him shifted, into brightness within me, and, certain now that my part in these events were integral to Martin's success or failure, I nodded._

" _All right. If you will lead us, I will follow you into battle," I told him, deciding that he was right. "And I will capture the Great Sigil stone for you."_

" _What?" Martin asked quickly, quietly, lowering our hands; the certainty in him stumbling. "No – that's not what I meant," he shook his head. "You're not going into the Great gate."_

" _But I am," I detangled one of my hands from his, to raise it to his cheek. "You are right, Martin," my eyes were bright, and my voice shook, but not out of fear, as I added; "the time for hiding while others put their lives at risk is over."_

–

Before long, there were so many daedra on the battlefield before us, that the Cheydinhal armies had swarmed the field, to join their comrades. Only a few of the number rallied to Bruma's aid remained, outside of the ward, and we knew that most of them would be joining their brothers and sisters in battle, once the Great gate had been opened.

The rain of arrows on our protective ward was constant, as the dremora bearing bows continued to fire upon us in an attempt to take down the last Septim, and with him, Tamriel's last hope. But the barrier held fast.

When the earth rumbled beneath our feet again, and the third gate began to tremble and curve backwards and licks of flame from it burst forward, as though being drawn into the mass of shadow behind it, Martin called out to me over the noise.

"Go, Sarina!" he cried out. "Akatosh guide you!"

The power behind his words forced my nerves aside and I raced forward, as two of the Blades stepped out from behind the barrier with me, their shields raised, to protect me from the rain of arrows coming from the Dremora firing near the gates.

"Bruma! Kvatch! It is time!" I called out to the remainder of the guard, who had been waiting for my signal. "Today, we avenge, and save, your people!"

With a roar, I was joined by two armies; one dressed in white and bearing the Kvatch fox on their chests, and the other dressed in the yellow of Bruma, bearing the city's black bird. The Blades that had covered me stepped back behind the barrier, and to their duty, which was to protect the Emperor at all costs.

Ignoring the battle around us, we ran, watching as the Great gate destroyed the third Oblivion gate as the world turned in on itself around it. Arching flames from the other two gates stretched out and grasped hold of the larger archway as it assembled itself, and we kept running, fuelled by a fire of our own.

I cast a glance to my left, in realising that the Kvatch guard on my side was Ilend Vonius, and while there was too much noise to greet him, and really no time or need for it on the battlefield, I felt a sense of relief overcome me, in knowing that he who had seen me through my first encounter with Oblivion was joining me for my last.

The soldiers of Kvatch had arrived not long after the delegations from Chorrol and Anvil had, though I had not been aware that any had come, since I had not asked them to.

Martin had brought up Kvatch, also earlier that morning, and after thanking me for what I had done for the people he had once lived amongst, Martin had told me that some three legions had brought themselves to Kvatch, lead by Commander Vonius. Ilend had apparently told Captain Burd that they had come not at the request of the Lady Passero, but to fight _for_ her. When Martin had relayed this to me, I had wanted to cry and laugh, all at once.

And so it was decided that the Kvatch armies would follow me into the Great gate, while the Bruma guard covered us, on our journey to it. Bruma would remain behind, to defend their city, and the soldiers from Kvatch would defend me from within Oblivion, while I ran for the Great Sigil stone. The hope for Bruma was that I would reach it, before the daedric siege engine could emerge far enough from Oblivion to fire upon the city.

The Great gate to Oblivion opened, and the moment that the portal had settled, the tip of the great siege engine was visible, protruding from the top of the flames.

From the base of the gate, daedra surged toward us.

"Make way!" Ilend was crying out, over the din of battle. The Bruma guards were firing and slashing at any daedra that ventured close to our advancing party. Soldiers from other regions, who were close to us and not currently under direct attack, hurried to join the Bruma guard, and together they formed a wall around us; firing and shielding against all and any attack.

Men and women fell, all around us, and were replaced by others almost immediately, who fought so that we could carry out our task. My hands grasped my bow in one hand, and an arrow in the other; I was _desperate_ to stop running and fire; to lend my bow to the fight.

" _You must run, like you have never run before, no matter what is happening around you,"_ Martin's words surged through me again.

With the help of the soldiers of Cyrodiil, the Kvatch guards and I reached the Great gate unharmed. Then, without pausing, we ran into it.

It was a crossover like none I had experienced before. I felt fuzzy and insubstantial, as a hundred malevolent forces pushed around me, trying and failing to grab hold of me as they were sent flying in the opposite direction.

And then the transition was over, and my feet landed on solid ground. I was still running, and didn't stop, as I looked up to face an impossibly tall gate made of carved, blackened stone, that had opened before us.

Kvatch soldiers were in front of me, beside me, and though I didn't turn to confirm it, I knew that they were behind me, still making their way through the gateway. To our right was the enormous siege crawler; as tall as the Oblivion gate itself, being pushed by a hoard of dremora chained to it at the rear. Around us, scamps and dreamora alike launched themselves at us, and were pushed back by the swords, hammers and arrows of the Kvatch guard.

I hesitated only long enough to ready my arrow in my bow, and someone immediately grabbed my arm and propelled me out of the way, as a surge of flames erupted from the side of the siege engine itself.

" _Do not stop_ , my Lady," Ilend called out, over the screams of rage that burned around us. He let go of my arm, his sword drawn and ready in his other hand. I nodded to him, understanding without needing to be told that he was with me, no matter what happened. We ran, toward a tower in the distance, which was taller than all other towers, and with the sickly yellow light issuing from its topmost point.

Daedra tried and failed to stop us. While I was focussed wholly on my task within Oblivion, not even stopping to fire upon any enemy who were within range and not felled by one of the guards who raced through the realm with me, the minutes ticked by. Urgent anxiety for all of those I loved on the other side of the porthole forced me onward, as I gasped great lungfuls of the sulphurous air. The oppressive heat of the realm pushed and tugged at me, and made me feel as though I was running through soup at times.

There were smaller towers lining a pathway that lead to our goal, and gates and enormous walls blocking our way to the tower that contained the Sigil stone. I made for the closest of the small towers, to our left, reasoning that like some of the other Oblivion worlds I had entered before this one, perhaps the only way into the large tower would be to go through the smaller.

The daedra that attempted to block our way were barely a hinderance; there were several Kvatch guards who had kept up with Ilend and I on our desperate run, and they stopped and did what was necessary; taking them out with arrows before they had posed a threat, or swords if the arrows failed to find their mark. We found our way across a narrow bridge and into another one of the towers, but once we had descended this tower, to our dismay, we saw that the bridges leading to the Sigil Keep were crumbled in places, and completely destroyed in others.

"Can we jump across what remains?" one of the Kvatch guards asked, gasping for breath as she stopped by my side.

I stared down at the rubble beneath us, and then the other side of the gorge; there were no daedra waiting for us, that much I could see. I shook my head as I reminded myself that we couldn't stop – for anything. "We climb," I decided swiftly, shouldering my bow and grabbing hold of the edge where the bridge had once begun. I swung myself down, as fast as I could manage while retaining my grasp of the hot tumble of rocks around us.

Cursing at the time we were losing, I didn't stop to wait for the others when I reached the bottom and raced across the more level ground.

I had thought that they were all further behind me, but I was surprised when I began climbing the rocks on the other side, that Ilend was right with me, again.

I flashed him a glance, as I gripped the rock and hauled myself upward, my arms shaking from effort. "I am glad you are here, Ilend," I told him, groaning with exertion as I pulled myself up another rock, and grabbed hold of the top of the pathway on the other side.

"I would be nowhere else, my Lady," Ilend helped me to ascend with a push of his hand, then added. "It is as Lady Caroline would have wanted."

From the top, I turned to him to give him my hand, but wasn't sure how to reply; and truly, now was not the time to be reminded that it should have been Caroline, and not him, there with me.

Ilend nodded beyond me, at the tower, refusing to take my hand. "Go! Don't wait for anything; we will catch you up."

 _Of course_ , I turned immediately, and ran for the Sigil Keep, grabbing my bow from my shoulder and readying an arrow as I slowed by the entrance, just in case there were daedra waiting for me just inside the entry. I pushed open the door with my foot. The sound of the Sigil stone immediately met me, and I let out a shuddering breath at yet another reminder; the last time I had heard that sound, had been when my beloved protector had died.

 _No time,_ I reminded myself, edging around the doorway, scanning the lower levels. Haste was one thing; but to run blindly into the tower that contained the Great Sigil stone would be suicide.

The Kvatch guards had joined me by the time I had moved inside, and, now that talking was impossible, I motioned for them to get down, as I crept forward and leaned around one of the stone pillars. A single Dremora was within, and I aimed my arrow and released, felling him with a single, swift hit.

I motioned for one of the Kvatch guards to proceed and check the area, as another raced out and searched the fallen Dremora, to make sure it was dead, I assumed.

I didn't stop to confirm what they were doing, and with a Kvatch archer in the lead, we ran up the sloping ramp that spiralled up the inside of the tower, finding only easily avoided traps, instead of more daedra blocking our way. We took the first doorway we came to, and continued to ascend, as the sounds of the Sigil stone grew louder and more bone-shaking.

A single, closed doorway was all that remained between us, and the Sigil stone's chamber; the _Sigillum Sanguis,_ and I felt my face fall when I saw it. It would be locked, for sure. Before I could confirm or deny this, or worry any further, one of our number dashed forward, holding up a ring with a key on it. Sighing with relief that someone had thought to search the Dremora we had felled for keys, the door was opened. Before I could charge forward, Ilend grabbed my arm and held me back.

When I swivelled to him, he was nodding toward the rest of the guard, and when I turned back, they had all run into the room before us. I understood; they were clearing the way for me.

But we couldn't wait for long. Ilend let go of me after a heartbeat, and together we raced into the room. I saw the Great Sigil stone immediately, blaring and buzzing in the centre of the room, just like all other Sigil stones I had encountered before now. It was set in between four black claws of stone. The difference with this Sigil stone was that it was suspended from enormous chains in the centre of the room; chains that I would have to climb down, if I was to reach it.

I couldn't stop to consider the best way to do it; I just had to go. Ilend covered me with his shield as soon as we were exposed, as arrows were fired toward us. I didn't hear the arrows impact his shield, but I saw their points push through the wood. Thankfully there was no time to feel fear that this sight would have otherwise brought. We ran and dodged, and soon, Ilend had delivered me to the corner of one of the chains that lead to the platform holding the Sigil stone. He turned away from me, to defend the position.

I held my bow out to steady me as I ambled across the enormous chain links, as though they were stepping stones. The chain was large enough that my weight didn't seem to move it.

I was half way across when I saw the Dremora, pouring across the three other lengths of chain that lead to the Sigil stone, two apiece. They seemed to be screaming, taunting me, but I couldn't hear them, of course, over the sound of the stone. Panic rose within me; if they reached the platform before I did, I wouldn't stand a chance. But I couldn't stop now.

One of them fell. Then another. Arrows, being shot by the Kvatch guards, took out each Dremora as they clambered toward the centre of the chamber. Another Dremora leaped onto the chain, as one closer to the middle was shot down, falling to the base of the tower, and its death, if the arrow had not taken care of that.

With an encompassing relief, I realised that I was going to make it before any of the remaining Dremora did, and once the Sigil stone was loose, this desperate race would be _over_.

I jumped the final two chain links, to land in a crouch on the platform where the Sigil stone was set, and an immediate, focussed, burning pain tore through my leg. I cried out; the sound swallowed by the noise of the stone. I automatically stared down at where I felt the pain, and saw a barbaric-looking arrow sticking out of my shin.

_Move!_

If I remained gaping where I was, I would be shot again in an instant. I propelled myself upward, forward, grasping one of the black stone claws that the Great Sigil stone was propped up between, swinging myself around the stone structure painfully, as an arrow struck the rock; where my head had been a moment ago.

Using the stone structure for support, I reached up with my other hand, and lifted the Great Sigil stone up from its setting, from underneath it. When it toppled over the lip that had contained it, I caught hold of it with both hands, and gasped with relief, as I turned and let my leg crumple beneath me.

In the act of falling, I startled backwards, as a Dremora on the platform lunged at me with its dagger. I hadn't realised it was there, and if I hadn't fallen because of the arrow in my leg, I would have been stabbed. As the realm dissolved around us, it lunged for me again, and I kicked my good leg out to block its blow; receiving a gash to the ankle for my efforts.

I clutched onto the Great Sigil stone with one arm, as I pushed myself backwards, away from the desperate Dremora, and off the platform. As I fell, holding onto the Great Sigil stone for dear life, I closed my eyes, and instead of seeing black, everything went white.

–

" _You're bleeding, little dove," Mankar Camoran's voice rings out in the white space between Mundus and Oblivion._

_I feel nothing, not even my own form, in this space, so I wonder why it matters._

" _You will feel it, when you reform," he tells me with a haughty confidence. "But your beloved Septim will rush in and lick your wounds."_

_The knowledge that I will soon be with Martin makes the part of me that feels anything elated, until Camoran's cackling interrupts the pleasant thought._

" _Enjoy him while you can, Sarina," his cackle turns into an amused chuckle. "The game is nearly at its end."_

" _Good," I tell him boldly. "For it is a game that I intend to win."_

_I am met with silence, and I feel that I am collecting myself on the other side of the crossover. I speak up again, as I realise that the next time I speak to Camoran, we will be face to face._

" _I will see you soon, Mankar Camoran."_

–

I landed, hard, on the cold ground, and cried out as pain tore through my legs. Both wounds burned me, in different ways, and the pain brought stars to my eyes, as I clenched them shut and ground my teeth. I gripped onto the Great Sigil stone that had made it through the transition with me tightly, with both hands, trying to distract myself from the all-consuming pain.

Cheering met my ears, and then was overtaken by the sound of destruction; the tumble of stone, metal and wood, close by me. I was wrenched up, to my feet, and hauled away as I opened my eyes in time to see both the Great gate, and the siege engine, topple down into a mass of rubble. An enormous piece of wood crashed down onto the earth, where I had landed, and I stared at the point, feeling as though I was about to be sick.

I turned to see who had saved me; and of course, it was Ilend. True to his word, he had remained by my side, as Caroline would have wanted it. There were bloody slashes on his armour and both ash and blood smeared across his face, but there was a tirelessness about him as he looked out over the collapsing gate that made me question whether he had just been through the same experience as I had.

"You saved me," I told him dumbly.

"You did it - you saved us all!" one of the nearby Bruma soldiers cried out, hurrying to us.

"Find a medic," Ilend said hurriedly to a nearby Kvatch archer, as he lowered me into a sitting position against a rock, and then motioned to another as the first ran off. "Fliora, are there any potions left?"

I tried to catch my breath and rise to my full height, and winced at the pain of my legs. I leaned back, hugging the Great Sigil stone to my chest instead, and decided that I had best wait to be seen to.

"Don't try to walk, yet, my Lady," Ilend turned back to me. "Someone will arrive to heal you shortly. Until then," he held out a tiny green bottle to me, which the guard he had called to had passed over.

Shuffling the Sigil stone so that I could hold it with one arm, I drank the potion hurriedly, grimacing at the bitterness, and the dryness in my throat that followed after I had swallowed. "That was awful," I told Ilend, passing back the bottle.

The one who had passed him the bottle – Fliora – laughed. "See, Commander? It's working. She's more focussed on the taste than the pain."

A few nearby guards laughed at this, though not unkindly, while Ilend merely shook his head.

I couldn't help but flush, and huffed as I looked away, across over the plain, and felt the momentary amusement I'd shared with them disappear.

The snow had stopped falling. The clouds were still thick in the sky and were their proper grey colour now, and the night still as black and dark as before, but I could still make out the shapes of the fallen. The battleground was laden with bodies; both daedric and human.

"So many dead," I felt light-headed.

"No," Ilend shifted, so that he was between me and the view of the battlefield. "So many living," he waved his hand around the area, at those who had survived the ordeal.

I glanced at the faces around us, seeing expressions of elated exhaustion, wherever I looked.

"Make way for the Emperor!"

It was Baurus' voice that captured everyone's attention, and the crowd around us parted and bowed. The Blades, as a group, ran to me, surrounding a distressed-looking Martin. He barely stopped as he raked his helmet off his head, throwing it uncaringly to the ground. His hair was plastered to his forehead and neck, where it had fallen out of its binding.

Wordlessly, he knelt before me, his eyes meeting mine with a look filled with both pain and gratitude. Still catching my breath from everything that had happened, and shaking a little from the cold night and pain in my legs, all I could do was stare back at him.

He charged a healing spell while he stared at me, and then looked down swiftly, laying one hand over my bleeding ankle, and the other around the arrow shaft in my other leg.

I closed my eyes with relief at the feel of his hands on me, as the pain began to immediately recede.

"This arrow isn't going to come out on its own," Martin spoke up, with the efficiency of a healer, and I opened my eyes.

"Baurus," he called out, over his shoulder.

The blade was by his side in an instant. "Sire?"

"Take hold of this end of the arrow," he instructed, while the tinkling sound of his healing spell continued, and I watched in fascination as the bloody gash on my ankle knitted shut.

Baurus knelt by my side, and did as Martin bade. "Say when, Sire."

Martin nodded to the Blade, then turned his eyes back up to me. "Sarina, the arrows used by the daedra are barbed, so if we pull it out on its own, it will tear..." he hesitated, swallowing, then shook his head. "I need to open the wound, so we can pull it out safely. I'll be as quick as I can," he added; a promise, though his voice shook a little.

I nodded, understanding. There would be some pain. I could bear it, knowing that Martin would take the pain away again. "Do whatever must be done. I am ready," I exhaled deeply, turning my eyes to where the arrow was protruding out of my leg; ever aware of the audience around us, who I had to be strong for. They had endured the bulk of the fighting; had accepted most of the risk. This fuss about my leg must have seemed excessive to them.

Martin's healing spell ceased, and the hand that had healed my ankle was suddenly turning my chin, bringing my attention back to him.

"Don't watch," he told me quietly, and I noticed the edge of pleading to his tone.

I nodded again, slowly, then closed my eyes.

He didn't wait any longer. Martin's palm was on my leg one moment, with his thumb curled around the arrow, and then then next, I felt fire. If I had thought that being shot in the first place was pain, I had truly known nothing of the word.

It was white-hot, and shot through my leg; I couldn't stop the scream that clawed its way out of my throat. The Great Sigil stone was forgotten; I dropped it as I tried to scramble backwards, automatically, unable to stop myself. I heard Martin call out, and then felt hands, and arms, on me; holding me down. I clamped my mouth shut, squeezing my eyes as tears leaked down my cheeks, and reminded myself over and over that this had to be done, and that my pain was nothing, when compared to what those around me had endured.

The fire stopped, and then there was only the sound of a restoration spell and the murmuring of the soldiers around us. My eyes flew open, as I looked down and saw the hole in my leg, closing up under Martin's ministrations. His eyes were hard, and entirely focussed on his work; with one hand secured over the wound, and the other running up and down my leg.

"Let me go," I commanded the soldiers who were holding me down, sitting up straighter as they did as I bade. I looked around for the Great Sigil stone; one of the Kvatch guards had picked it up, and I motioned for it.

Martin finished healing my leg, and stood, shaking his head as he discharged his spell. "It is done," he muttered with a shaky sigh, and then stood, holding his hand out to me and speaking louder. "My Lady; the battle is won. "

I held the Great Sigil stone out to him, and he pushed it aside, palming it off to an awaiting Jauffre, and taking my hand in his instead.

Then he turned us both, to the remaining, assembled armies of Cyrodiil, and held my hand up in the air with his. "Three cheers for the Saviour of Bruma!" he cried out into the night.

The reply cheers and huzzuhs from the gathered soldiers rumbled around me. I turned my head to look up at Martin, wondering what he was doing as he continued to hold my arm aloft. He looked down at me then, too, his face awash with happiness, and relief.

A realisation swept over me.

I would never need venture into Oblivion again. All that stood between us and the end of this torturous war now, was Mankar Camoran.

I returned Martin's grin, as elation flooded me. Martin began to lower our hands, as the cheers of the crowd died down.

"And three cheers for the Emperor!" I grasped his hand a little tighter, holding his arm up this time.

The soldiers of Cyrodiil's cheers were loud enough to shake the earth, and Martin laughed at me, as the snow began to fall again.


	45. The Bridge to Paradise

It seemed that every soldier who had survived the battle for Bruma wanted to thank the Emperor and the Hero of Kvatch as we made our way off the battlefield. Martin and I were separated, several times, as we stopped and talked to the fighters from the cities of Cyrodiil, but Baurus remained by his side, and Ilend remained by mine.

"You know that you don't have to shadow me?" I said to Ilend quietly, as we reached the entry point to the walls of Bruma, and I turned to search for Martin in the crowd, not wanting to go any further without him. I could see him with Baurus, a little way back, talking to some of the guards from Cheydinhal.

Ilend nodded, turning to watch the Emperor's approach as well; "I know, my Lady."

I shook my head at Ilend, marvelling that I had managed to attract the loyalty of such steadfast people. "I expect that you'll be needed back in Kvatch, soon, to resume your duty as signatory of my account?" I reminded him. "Unless the rebuild has exhausted our funds already?" I added, with a small smile.

He shook his head, as he hid a smile of his own.

"It shall be some time before we have depleted your generous donation," he replied, lowering himself to one knee as a sign of respect to the Emperor, as we were joined by Martin and Baurus. "Though, it was my, and Captain Matius' hope, that you would agree to return to Kvatch, now that Bruma has been made safe," he continued addressing me.

I tried to stall the flush of embarrassment that crept up my cheeks, as I felt Martin's curious, but somewhat amused stare, at the conversation that he had walked into. Martin had once been a citizen of Kvatch, and I wondered if he was amused because of Ilend's asking me instead of him to return to his former home, or if he was amused for some other reason.

"I'm sorry, Ilend," I turned slightly, so that Martin's distracting look didn't make me laugh at the Kvatch guard to whom I owed my life, several times over. "Bruma is no longer under direct threat, but Oblivion gates will still open, which will further Mehrunes Dagon's hold on our world," my laughter quelled at the turn in the conversation. I felt Martin reach out and take my hand; a gesture of kindness, and support; calming me, and strengthening my resolve, as he seemed to always be able to do.

"I must retrieve the Amulet of Kings, as the late Emperor foresaw, if we are to bring this war to an end," I told Ilend resolutely, and I felt that all who were within hearing range turned to look at us, as I said it.

"You?" Ilend raised his head, and his eyes flickered to Martin for a moment, before settling on me again. "Have you not done enough, my Lady?" he asked; polite as ever, but with an edge of accusation, or frustration, in his question.

_That's what Caroline would have said._

I paused, wondering if telling him this would bring him pain, but reconsidered my hesitance immediately; to not speak her name would be a disgrace to her memory.

"You sound like Caroline," I told him quietly, and felt my throat tighten as soon as I'd said it. Ilend's frustration seemed to shift at once, into a look of plain sadness.

I felt Martin's hold on my hand strengthen, in question, and I had the notion that he was offering to intervene. I squeezed his hand in response; a signal that I was able to proceed. "Please, my friend," I continued to speak only to Ilend, and held my other hand out to him. He stared at it.

"Rise," I bade. "Return to Kvatch, and rebuild your great city, so that the Emperor and I might return to it together, as soon as we are able to."

Slowly, Ilend accepted this with a nod, and took my hand, but instead of using it to bring himself up to my level, as I had intended, he pressed his forehead to it. "It shall be as you desire, my Lady."

"But, it's not a command," I added hurriedly, taken back by his gesture; one of utmost respect. "You may do whatever you wish."

Ilend did rise then, letting go of my hand; his honour impenetrable. "I shall ride for Kvatch at once, to resume my duties there, unless you have further need of me?"

Realising that Ilend was as determined to maintain the formality between us, I shook my head sadly.

"Then I bid you farewell – for now," he added, with a half smile.

Martin spoke up then, thanking Ilend for his service, and echoing my promise; we would return to Kvatch once the war had ended; as soon as we were able to. He then excused us, motioning toward Bruma, explaining that we had to prepare to leave ourselves.

I was grateful that he took control of the conversation then, as Ilend left us with a bow, and Martin and I turned in the opposite direction to him, and entered the city at last.

Something about the way Ilend had departed had made me sad. Perhaps it was simply that his presence reminded me of Caroline's; and reminded me that she had never had a chance to pursue the budding romance she had begun with the Kvatch man. Perhaps it was merely guilt; that I felt responsible for depriving them of each other's love.

While I pondered this, frowning at the cobbles of the Bruma main road, Martin untangled our hands, to place my hand in the crook of his elbow instead.

"You must be exhausted," he said in a lowered tone. Baurus stepped out in front of us, leading the way back up to the castle at a brusque pace.

"Oh – thank you," I leaned on his arm, grateful once again for his support. "I suppose I am," I added quietly, as I looked out over the sea of faces gathered in Bruma as we walked; soldiers, returned from the battle, heading to their temporary abodes for some well-earned rest. It wouldn't be long before they were packed and returning to their counties, and the citizens of Bruma called back to their homes.

My eyes drifted to the horizon, beyond the city wall; it had turned a delicate shade of pink. It would soon be dawn. The entire battle had begun, been fought, and brought to a close, over the course of a few hours. After all of our preparations for this ominous confrontation, it seemed surreal for it to be over so quickly.

Unaware that I was caught up in such an ambling train of thought, Martin spoke up again. "And despite your exertions, you did not rush away from any who wanted to speak to you," he continued, his voice still lowered, but with an added depth of admiration.

I dragged my eyes away from the lightening skies, and turned up to him, echoing his admiration in my smile. "Neither did you," I pointed out.

Martin returned me a knowing smile. "They speak to me because it is their duty to," he shook his head. "But they speak to you because they want to. I can see it," he added warmly, then shifted down a little closer to me to add; "You shall make such a fine Empress. Everybody already loves you."

I ducked my head now, wanting to laugh as warmth suffused me at his words; his casual certainty that, if we won this war, we would rebuild the Empire together. And why shouldn't we? Our victory in Bruma made me see that we could accomplish anything, so long as we were in it together.

This was the first we had talked of the matter directly, and duly reminded of the letter he had sent to Count Indarys, I flashed him a cheeky look and asked, "Empress? So, we _are_ engaged? I had wondered."

Martin made an urgent sound, bringing us to a halt so he could turn me to face him, his hands gripping both of my arms. "I never asked for your hand!" he stared down at me with wide eyes, looking horrified. "After I told..." he removed a hand from one of my arms, to run it through his mess of hair, as he looked to the horizon in apparent frustration.

"Sire?" Baurus had heard Martin's exclamation, and had trotted back to us.

I laughed softly, and placed a hand on Martin's cheek, drawing his focus back to me. "I'm teasing you. You think I need proof of your commitment?"

His mouth turned down; he shook his head. "Forgive me," he took both of my hands, suddenly, and gripped them. "I will make it up to you."

I startled a little at his swiftness, and stared at our joined hands, my heart leaping as I wondered if he was about to propose, right then in the streets of Bruma, in front of everybody. "Martin – you aren't –?"

"Sarina Passero," he started, and the weight in his tone as he said my name was all I needed to hear, to know that he _was_.

I let him proceed as my heart flipped again; suddenly I was able to tune out the presence of others around us, as I stared up into his serious, devoted blue eyes.

"You have been a bright light to my worn and despairing soul from the moment we met," he began in his soft rumble of a voice. I let his words wash over me. "You are the most capable woman I know. I will follow you for the rest of my days; protect you with every breath I take, as I strive to be the man you deserve and the Emperor you believe me capable of being."

"Martin," I whispered, breathing shakily, feeling touched. His declaration was beautifully wrought; I would carry it with me for the rest of _my_ days, as a beacon of its own.

He finished with a gentle, reaffirming squeeze to my hands. "I should have asked you, a thousand times before this moment," he said pensively, almost to himself. "And I shall ask you, every day from this one, if you require it of me. Marry me?" he finished simply.

On the edges of my vision; which were blurred with overwhelmed tears, I could see that we certainly had drawn an audience. I noticed Baurus, shifting slowly back from us, as though he was attempting to do it without anybody noticing.

The thought of the tall and solid Redguard sidling away from us, accompanied by the words Martin had just shamelessly and lovingly spoken, made me laugh, and brightness filled me as I nodded to him hurriedly, struggling to find any words to equal his.

"Yes," I laughed again, opting to simply answer the question – but, there had never been any doubt that I would say yes. The only doubts I had ever had, had been whether or not the obligations of our duties would allow us to be together.

His smile as I answered him set me alight once more, and when he ducked down to kiss me, letting go of my hands to sweep me into his arms, I met him joyfully, as I heard cheering erupt around us from those within Bruma who had just borne witness to our very public, official engagement.

–

The gates to Castle Bruma were as clogged as the city had been, only with Blades and horses; Ebony among them, I noticed quickly.

Jauffre saw us before we reached the entry to the main castle. He looked unusually harried, even for him, and he stepped up to meet Baurus as Martin and I trailed behind him to a stop, our hands still linked.

"What took you so long?" he asked with a surge of exasperation.

"I'm sorry, Grandmaster," Baurus stood tall.

"Leave him alone, Jauffre," Martin spoke up. "Rage at me for delaying us, if you must rage at anyone."

Jauffre cast a quick, annoyed glance at us, before his eyes settled on Martin. "Sire, we must not let our victory here delay us a moment longer," he said, in a lecturing tone. "The opening of the Great Gate further's Dagon's ultimate goal; the world is not saved yet. There is still the matter of the Amulet of Kings, and we must return to Cloud Ruler Temple before we might pursue it."

 _We?_ I crossed my brows slightly at Jauffre, noticing that Martin was nodding; agreeing with him. I left my thoughts unsaid; though the words were on the tip of my tongue. I could discuss the pursuit of the Amulet with them once we were on the road.

"Are we to leave immediately?" Martin asked.

Jauffre nodded, handing a satchel to him, and then one to me. I clutched it in both hands, as I realised that it was Caroline's backpack, retrieved from our room.

"At once," he said, unnecessarily, and then turned and barked an order for the Blades to mount up.

Everything moved so quickly, I barely knew what to do, so I followed the instructions I was given. Blades approached us, hurriedly, helping us into our cloaks; mine the blue one that I had been gifted by the Count of Cheydinhal. Another approached leading our horses then; saddled and ready to go.

I laughed when I saw the horse being lead next to Ebony, that Martin was to ride. "You brought _Tor_ with you?" I asked, turning to Martin in amusement. He had been so cautious of my mother's horse, when I had ridden him out of Skingrad, that I could not imagine how he could have agreed to ride him anywhere.

Martin flashed me a narrow-eyed look, though I caught a smirk, as well. "I found him to be quite reliable, on the journey to Bruma," he admitted loftily, as he took my hand and lead me to Ebony's flank.

I laughed softly and let him help me to mount up. Once again, I felt a little light-headed at the speed of our departure, and as I settled myself and tied Caroline's backpack to the saddle, I glanced toward the main doors to the castle. "There is no time to thank the Countess," I murmured.

"It will be all right."

I turned, wondering at the strain in his voice, and noticed that Martin was settling himself into the saddle now, as Tor fidgeted under him.

I barely hid a smile as I drew Ebony closer to him, so I could reach up and press my hand to the enormous horse's nose.

"Easy, Tor," I said to him, just loud enough for Martin to hear. "Be a brave horse, and bear the Emperor kindly."

The horse snorted in response, and I did laugh then, as Martin drew my attention back to him.

"As I was saying," he had righted himself in the saddle, and stared down at me now. "It _will_ be all right. The Countess will understand our need for haste."

"I suppose you are right," I sighed.

Jauffre called for us to leave, and Martin was immediately surrounded by a retinue of Blades. Baurus and Captain Steffan were among them; positioned either side of Martin, as we rode toward the exit to the city; the northern gate, I assumed. I eased Ebony back.

When Martin turned to see where I was, I smiled encouragingly to him, and though a part of me had wistfully thought that we might ride together to Cloud Ruler Temple, I reminded myself that Martin would be exposed during our journey north, and so must be protected at all times.

As we exited Bruma city, and the Blades formed a wall around Martin, I noticed that Jauffre was riding by my side.

I sent him a curious glance, as we walked our horses up and along the road north. "You are not with Martin?" I confirmed with him.

Jauffre shook his head directly. "My people have their orders. And he is not the only one that the Mythic Dawn hope to capture," he fixed me with a stare.

"Oh," I realised, as I turned my eyes back to the road and stared ahead of us, to the Jerall mountains. He was protecting me. I had not expected that, though I found it difficult to express gratitude toward him. Jauffre always managed to make me feel inadequate, whether he intended to or not, and his hard stare as he had reminded me that I was also a target made me feel a little ruffled; as though he didn't believe I was capable of looking after myself, despite everything that I had achieved in the short time we had known one another.

"Lady Passero," Jauffre said with a sigh, when I didn't respond to him, "you are not a Blade, so I cannot order you to do anything you do no wish to do. I may only advise you, and hope that you will listen."

I turned to regard him with crossed brows; that I was not under his command had never stopped him from trying to give me orders before now. I remained silent though, to hear what he would say. So, he wasn't riding with me merely to protect me.

"As the officer in charge of the Septims, I would advise you to try to get some rest upon our return to Cloud Ruler Temple, and to keep well away from the ritual that is to be performed," he said, emphasising the last.

Realising that he _did_ mean to prevent me from going after Mankar Camoran, as I had guessed earlier, I shook my head. "Thank you for your concern, but you cannot seriously be suggesting that I ignore the late Emperor's decree to retrieve the Amulet of Kings."

"You are _not_ going after Mankar Camoran," Jauffre told me in a firm voice. The speed of his response, and the bluntness of his tone, told me at once that he had been preparing for this conversation with me.

I almost laughed at him. "The Emperor's words aside, _you_ set me upon this path, Jauffre," I reminded him, "when you bade me travel to Kvatch to find Martin. You can't use the Emperor's words to make me act when it suits you, and then lock me away until I'm useful to you again."

"This has little to do with the late Emperor's final words to you," Jauffre said in a more measured tone than before. "It is for the new Emperor that I entreat you to agree that you will remove yourself from this final quest, and let the Blades complete it for you."

I closed my eyes and took a breath. "Martin asked you to do this?" I asked him, in a more quiet voice.

"On the contrary," Jauffre's response was also more quiet. "It is my belief that Martin's dreams have convinced him that your inclusion in these events is vital to our success, as much as he fights to accept it."

"Then," I all but spluttered in response; surprised, but oddly relieved, "you must agree with _him_. Listen to Martin, if you will not listen to me. He has his father's gift of foresight-"

"And you may well be the mother of the heir to the Empire," Jauffre interrupted me, his voice immediately just as hard as it had been before.

I turned away from him, once again casting my eyes to the horizon, and stared at the backs of our comrades, a little way ahead of us. I felt warm spots of anger bring a flush to my cheeks. "That is none of your business," I grated, tired of the status of my maidenhood being used as an open topic for discussion.

"It is entirely my business," Jauffre replied, trying to sound reasonable, I supposed, but his calmer presumption made me only more angry with him.

Before I could find words to fire back at him, he continued. "It is the solemn duty of the Blades to protect the Septim line, not only the current Emperor."

He then turned a little on the saddle, to face me, but I childishly turned my head away from him, as a part of me began to panic. It was absurd; the notion that after one night together, I would fall pregnant to Martin. Such things only happened in bard's tales, and bad ones at that.

"Do you not wonder if this might be the reason that both Camoran and Mehrunes Dagon seem to want to capture you?" he asked, despite my turning away from him.

"It doesn't seem to matter what I wonder," I tried to watch my tone as the words tumbled out of me, but failed, completely shaken by Jauffre's suggestion. "You have already made up your mind that it is the reason."

I wondered that Jauffre's reply was so even. "I ask you only to consider the possibility. Whether you are bearing the heir to the Septim dynasty or not, it will be clear to our foes that your are the one who has been chosen to do so-"

I closed my eyes again at this, as his words reminded me of Ruma Camoran; she had also said that I was the one chosen by the Septims. Suddenly, this conversation, and Jauffre's casual knowledge of a moment of intimacy that Martin and I had shared, in private, was too much for me to bare.

Gripping Ebony's reigns tightly, I turned to Jauffre and fixed him with a hard stare. "Thank you for your concern, Grandmaster, but this is not a matter I am willing to discuss," I saw his face fall, rather than darken, as I had expected it to, which gave me pause.

"You are hopelessly unmatched, if you intend on facing Mankar Camoran," he said in a low voice. "And it will kill Martin, if you are harmed," he added sadly.

So this _was_ about Martin; he had only thrown about the notion of a future Septim to try and surprise me into agreeing with him. And Jauffre gave the nobility a hard time for playing games with their words!

"You insist on giving him so little credit!" I couldn't hide my exasperation. "I believe in Martin, Jauffre. He is the Emperor that Tamriel needs, now more than ever. There is only one way to make him Emperor, and I made a vow that I would make it possible by giving him the Amulet of Kings," I told him stolidly. "Camoran has been speaking to me, inside my head, in my dreams, and every time I ascend from Oblivion, taunting and tormenting me with threats and garbled prophecies," I realised that I was telling Jauffre more than I had intended, and dimly wondered how he managed to always wrangle truths from me.

Jauffre's eyes had widened, just a little, and suddenly I wondered if I might have managed to surprise him.

"Whether my part in these events is chance, or fated, neither you, nor Camoran, can make me turn my back on my promise."

Again, Jauffre swiftly changed tactics. "We will have one chance at retrieving the Amulet," he fired. "If you insist on going through with this; what is your plan?" he asked hurriedly. "Or do you believe you can stumble into the demesne of Camoran himself, a place _he_ created, and that good fortune will guide you out again?"

Furious, I turned away from Jauffre, and urged Ebony into a faster trot, determined to join the main group and put some distance between the Grandmaster and myself. Despite the frigid air that only got even dryer and colder as we rode northward, my face felt hot, and I threw the hood of my cloak back to let the fresh air fan my cheeks.

 _He has a point_ , the part of me that wasn't livid spoke up within me as I rode. _You haven't any idea of what you will face in Camoran's Paradise, or how you will defeat him._

"I will find a way," I muttered under my breath, as I eased Ebony into a slower trot, as we came upon the group of Blades that surrounded Martin.

"My Lady?" one of the Blades nearest had heard me muttering.

I held up my hand and shook my head, dismissing what they had heard. "How long until we reach Cloud Ruler Temple?" I asked him.

The Blade looked to the mountains ahead of us. "Before the sun is set, I would wager."

"Good. Thank you," I added quickly. "I would like to ride with the Emperor for a time, if you would let me through."

"Of course," the Blade, whose name I didn't know, dipped his head hurriedly, and motioned for me to proceed as he reigned his horse back slightly with his other hand. "Make way!" he called forward, as I directed Ebony into the throng.

The Blades separated only enough to let Ebony and I slip through, and then closed up behind us. Martin turned in the saddle to watch my approach.

"There you are," he smiled, as I brought Ebony up beside him. "I had wondered when Jauffre would frustrate you enough for you to make your way to me."

I took a deep breath so I could reply with a measured tone, but failed. "He _insists_ on treating me like a child."

Martin laughed softly, and I flashed a glance at him, wondering that he could take any amusement from my frustration. He gave me a sideways look then. "If it is any consolation; I know exactly how you feel. He has been treating me the same, for longer than either of us would care to admit."

I huffed, shaking my head, but before I could respond, Martin continued.

"He does it because he does not know how to protect either of us, from what we must do," he sighed.

Martin's steady voice did much to ease the anger in me. I watched him for a moment; my eyes following the sunlight as it glinted against the gilding on his cloak, as he watched the mountains before us. He was so calm, despite what we were about to do, and I could hardly believe that he had so fully accepted that I was to go through the portal after Mankar Camoran, alone, particularly after his words to me in the streets of Bruma.

"So, you _do_ accept that I am to pursue Mankar Camoran and retrieve the Amulet of Kings?" I asked him directly.

Martin closed his eyes, and took a moment to compose himself, before he faced me again. "Do not make me speak of it," he asked quietly. "I believe in you, Sarina. I do," he added hastily, then cleared his throat as his voice grew somewhat thicker. "But...just...do not make me. I cannot bear..." he sighed shakily, unable to finish what he had started saying.

The last of my anger fled, as remorse took hold of my heart and tears sprung to my eyes. I blinked them back, hurriedly, feeling ashamed. How could I have asked Martin such a thing, so carelessly? I loved this man, and he loved me. Of course to speak of such a thing to him would shake him.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "I am still mad, from talking to Jauffre. I didn't mean to be so rude."

He continued, with a small, sad laugh. "No, _I_ am sorry; you must be terrified. Please, my love; speak of whatever you wish to me," he reached a hand over the gap between us, to touch my arm briefly. "Perhaps I may even be able to help, in some way."

I had intended only to escape Jauffre and the fury he had roused in me by joining Martin, but when he said this, I realised that now _was_ the only time we had to assess, and plan, my retrieval of the Amulet. I laughed at the absurdity of the task ahead, and the speed of events that were occurring around us, all in a blur. We could either live in fear during these hours before the portal was opened, or we could be rational.

"All right," I nodded, shaking away the tears that I no longer felt the need to cry, telling myself to be brave; to think. "Tell me what you have learned about Camoran's realm; anything that might help to overcome him, or to escape his Paradise after I have retrieved the Amulet."

Martin nodded, and I was pleased to see the fear I had caused in him with my careless question ebb. "Not as much as I would like, but I do have theories," he began, then turned his eyes away from me again, focusing on our path forward once more. "Camoran strived to model his realm on Dagon's, from what I can discern," he sighed a little. "Which means that there is a high chance that the portal we open will be much like a portal to Oblivion. The difference being," he added swiftly, reasonably, "that it was not created by a Daedric Prince who might stabilise his realm with Sigil stones, but a man – a mortal man, regardless of the power he has borrowed and how long it has prolonged his existence for."

I began to feel confidence at Martin's likening what I would find in Paradise to what I had found in Oblivion. "You believe that Camoran might have created a Sigil stone of his own, to anchor his realm to the space it occupies?" I asked hurriedly, somewhat fascinated in what Martin had been able to discern during his research.

Martin shook his head. "Camoran wouldn't have the power to create such a thing. He might think he does," he added contrarily, "but, I don't believe he needed to test himself. He cheated," Martin looked to me, his eyes hard and his mouth straight, "when he stole the Amulet."

"The Amulet is the Sigil stone to his Paradise?" I felt my eyes widen. It made so much sense; I could scarcely believe I hadn't thought of it until now.

Martin smiled a little. "I think Camoran _himself_ acts as the anchor to Paradise, somehow. Perhaps the Amulet is allowing him to do so; it is in itself very powerful, or so I have read. But whatever the power that allows his realm to remain stable enough for him to exist in; I believe that he is unable to leave because of it. He is awaiting Dagon's ascent, trapped in a realm of his own making."

I nodded at Martin's logic, reasoning that some of it had to be true. Why else would Camoran remain in his Paradise for so long, if he truly desired to locate Martin and I; unless he wasn't able to leave?

Martin then sighed; a long, sad exhale. "Of course, if this is true, then the only way to return from his Paradise will be to take the Amulet from him, and kill him," he said, somewhat anxiously, though I could tell that he was trying to remain steady.

I nodded, as his barely suppressed nerves fuelled my own. "It will be done."

Martin nodded sadly. "It must be done. I am sorry," he looked to the white, cloud-filled sky above us. "I am making things worse."

"No," I cut in quickly. "You are doing as you promised you would, back in Bruma when you so beautifully asked for my hand," I reached out to him now, touching his shoulder so he would turn back to me. "You're protecting me, so that we might have _our_ future," I finished quietly.

He did turn back to me then, as he captured my hand with his own and squeezed it for a moment. "I dare to hope."

–

We did reach Cloud Ruler Temple before sunset, and I was reminded of the first time I had set eyes on the great, looming fortress as we approached its enormous gates. The structure seemed to blend seamlessly into the mountain and forest surrounding it, and only reveal itself if approached from certain angles; a true hidden base. I wondered that the Dawn had ever found out about it.

Once we were inside, and dismounted, everything continued to happen very quickly. Jauffre barely flashed me a glance as he approached us with the Great Sigil stone under one arm and collected Martin, brusquely ordering me to prepare myself and then barking for two Blades nearby to assist me.

I stared after him, my expression hard, and felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up to Martin, to see his look of support, of hope, and of confidence, despite our odds. I felt my face soften as I gave him a smile, and nodded gratefully to him.

Then he trailed after Jauffre, and I went with the Blades Jauffre had assigned to me.

Time sped along. I prepared as though I was preparing for Oblivion. As much as I longed to wear my Kvatch armour, I left it where it was; bundled up in a backpack. I had reasoned that it would not be smart to wear it, as it would announce who I was the moment I had entered Camoran's Paradise. We searched the armoury and assembled a discreet-enough ensemble; armour I could move silently in; all leathers and padded furs. A sword belt was strapped around my waist, with a light, short blade dangling in its scabbard against my hip. Once I was dressed, I re-clasped my cloak around my shoulders, so that I might be able to hide the armour entirely, if I had a need to. There was no hiding the quiver of arrows that I strapped over the top of the cloak, but there was nothing to be done about that. I was not going to walk into Camoran's Paradise without arrows for my bow.

I was ready, and now all there was to do was wait. I clasped my hand around Caroline's backpack straps, considering whether or not I should take it with me. I had no need of it where I was going, but I couldn't bare to part with it either, just yet. I frowned down at the worn, light brown leather and brass buckles.

I had rifled through the contents, briefly, in the forests when I had been searching for a healing potion, but I had not sorted through it beyond finding her dagger, as it had been directly after finding it that I had heard voices approaching and fled in a panic.

Casting a glance toward the Main hall and hearing only the hum of talking, but knowing that Martin might finish preparing the portal and call for me at any moment, I wondered if now was the time to be organising Caroline's effects on her behalf; while I was distracted by what had to be done, leaving little time to be sentimental or to become weighed down by grief.

I didn't have to consider for long, reasoning that if I didn't do it now, and I didn't make it back from Paradise, that task would have to fall to somebody else. I drew her backpack up and moved from the armoury to the library that Martin and I had spent so much time in together during my weeks here, and placed it on one of the tables, untying it.

The first item I came across was her dagger, again, and knowing that it would be of greater use to me on my journey than in her bag, I sheathed it in the Blades boots that I had put on in the armoury, and closed the flap over the top of it.

Peering into the bag before I reached back into it, I withdrew each item and laid it out in front of me, without taking notice of what it was, for now. Once the bag was empty; and it didn't take very long; I set the pack aside and turned to the items.

 _This is all that's left of her_ , I told myself, feeling detached as I glanced over the array of trinkets she had collected, with the intention of selling at some point or other. There were rings and necklaces, of varying sizes and qualities, none of which I had ever seen her wearing. There was a pale blue tunic and dark grey hose; common garments that she had worn under her dress the day we had been in Leyawiin. There were some odd plant remains, that looked as though they had been picked in Oblivion; she must have intended on selling them to an alchemist.

And then there were two letters. I turned them over in my hands. They were folded, and unsealed, but as I inspected them, I noticed tiny letters scribed on the corner of each.

 _Grandmaster,_ I read on the first. My initials were on the other.

I stared at the tiny _SP_ in Caroline's hand, and became hollow. Caroline could not have known that she was going to perish in Oblivion that day. So why had she written a note to me, when she could have talked to me at any time?

Memories of our final days together came back to me, unbidden. Caroline had been distracted; I had noticed it several times. But she had otherwise seemed herself. I had not pressed or persuaded her to tell me what was on her mind; resolving that if it was any of my business, she would tell me when she was ready.

One of the Blades who had been told to assist me approached then, with an armload of bottles and food. "Is that the supply bag that you will be taking?" she asked me, as she unloaded her burdens on the table, around Caroline's things.

Swallowing down my confusion and my grief, I turned to the woman and nodded. "Yes," I said shakily, tucking the note to me into a pocket in my armour. I placed the one to Jauffre on the table, with the rest of Caroline's things. "Are these for me?"

The Blade nodded, and began to wrap the potion bottles in sheaths of cloth, explaining that it would keep them from clinking together and breaking. I nodded idly, as the woman continued explaining everything she had brought for me, but didn't really hear her.

I should have known that I would find _something_ that would affect me, in Caroline's bag, but I had never expected that I would find a letter from her. I warred with myself; demanding that I read the letter at once, and insisting that I couldn't dare read her final words, for they would be like a death of their own.

Once the supplies were packed, I stood at the Blade's bidding, and let her loop the straps over my shoulders and secure it to my back, over the top of the cloak, resting securely beside the quiver.

As though he had been waiting for my preparations to be completed; and perhaps he had been doing just that; Baurus stuck his head into the library and told us that the portal was ready.

I felt nothing as I nodded to him, shouldered my bow, and stepped into the Main hall.

Perhaps it was for the best that I had found Caroline's letter when I had; otherwise the sight of the enormous sphere of golden flame that I was about to launch myself into might have shaken me. It swirled and churned, unnaturally lighting the room and the faces in it in a golden hue, emitting the sound of storms and blazing fires, and something more, something deeper and more fearful that I couldn't identify; as though the planes of reality were screaming in pain and fury, at having been torn open.

I stopped and stared up at it, as the brush of unnatural breeze it was creating caught my hair and cloak; both pushing me away, and drawing me greedily closer. I felt, rather than saw, someone stand behind me.

"Our fate is in your hands," I heard Martin say, as he reached out to take my hand.

I turned, coming back to myself at the sight of him and the glow of the portal as it reflected off his hair and face. I stared up into his eyes, full of torment, and fear did then, finally, envelope me. But I knew that I had to face this.

"Martin," I whispered, stepping toward him, wrapping my arms around his neck and closing my eyes. "It is all right. I am ready, and I promise I will return," I told him; told myself.

He held me close, his grip vice-like as he continued speaking from our embrace. "I believe in you, Sarina," he repeated what he had told me, during the ride north earlier. "Do what must be done, and come back to me."

I pulled back from him, and our hands lingered on each other; clasping each other's arms. "I will," I nodded to him. "Pray for me," I added, as I took another step back from him, and our hands parted.

He swallowed and nodded, but said nothing.

I took another step back, etching this image of Martin onto my soul, in case it was the last time I was to look upon him.

Then I took another step back, and closed my eyes, leaning as I felt the small, grabby tendrils of the portal clutching at my ankles and the hem of my cloak.

Without opening my eyes; without thinking about what I was doing, who I was leaving, or who I had already lost; I turned and stepped into the light.

I was swept upward for a moment by the force of the portal, and then I was falling, and continued to fall. I opened my eyes, but everything was white, and rushing past me before I could see what it was.

And then I was back, on solid ground – dirt, and lush green grass. I stared around me, wondering if something had gone wrong; whether the portal had delivered me to another region of Cyrodiil, instead of to Camoran's Paradise. Perhaps we had translated the _Xarxes_ wrong; this did not look like a plane of Oblivion, or anything designed to be like Oblivion.

It was evening; the sun had set, and the sky was indigo. Large, verdant trees rose up around me, and the calm wind rustled their leaves gently.

I gingerly took a step, looking down as I placed one of my booted feet onto the enormous white stones of a path, that lead further into the garden.

My blood turned to ice, as I heard Mankar Camoran's voice in my head, as clear as a bell.

_"So. The cat's-paw of the Septims arrives at last."_


	46. Gaiar Alata

I found it impossible to ignore Camoran's voice invading my mind.

He had taken great delight in both noticing my arrival, and confirming where I was – the Paradise that he created; or, _Gaiar Alata_ , as he called it.

I could not deny that, at first glance, it was a beautiful place. I felt Camoran's smugness wash over me with a shudder, as I admitted this to myself.

" _You see, Sarina?"_ he asked me. _"Already you begin to understand that you have been lied to, for your entire life. The world is not as black and white as your false prophets would have you believe! Despite your blind allegiance to the decadent Tamriel of old, you desire my vision of the past, and of the future; you think to spite yourself, but the reality is far simpler._

" _But enough, for now, little Champion. Travel swift and sure; I await you at Carac Agaialor."_

Then he was gone. I didn't know what _Carac Agaialor_ was, but there was only one path in the garden, so I continued to follow it, as I took a great, shuddering breath in an effort to steady myself.

I could do this, I told myself. I _had_ to do this.

Towers of white stone rose in between the trees; reminding me of the Ayleid structures I had seen ruined throughout Cyrodiil on my travels. Only, these columns weren't ruins. The structures in the garden were perfectly clean, and smooth; as though brand new.

As I walked along the pristine white stones that wound through his garden, the very fact that I was yet to encounter any wrongness to the place made me feel ill. I was here to destroy this place, and its maker, not _admire_ it.

Finally, I saw a group of people approaching on the path, and left it immediately to hide behind one of the trees and observe. This had been the first signs of human life I had seen since entering Paradise, and I had no idea if anyone I encountered might attack me on sight. Quickly scanning them, I counted twelve in total, then ducked further back, to continue watching as they passed by my hiding spot.

They were Dawn devotees, I assumed; though none wore the trademark red cloaks of their cult. They wore very little, actually; all of the men were completely shirtless, wearing worn breeches. The women were dressed sparsely; their breasts barely covered with triangles of cloth, and sheaths of dark material were tied around their waists as skirts. None of them wore shoes, or were armed.

My mouth dried as I realised that all of them, somewhere on their bodies, were splattered with blood.

And they were calm; so calm. They talked, and laughed, though I couldn't make out what they were saying from the trees. One of the women stopped and pointed something out to the others, on the other side of the path to me. As the cultists paused to turn and look, another sound rent the air; unearthly, monstrous, booming voices and hideous screams, tearing through the calmness of the garden like wildfire.

" _Yield, slaves!"_

" _Your blood is forfeit!"_

" _There is nowhere to run!"_

I froze; there were _daedra_ in Camoran's Paradise? That had sounded like _Dremora_.

Watching; quite unable to look away as the horror built within me, I stared as daedra of all shapes and sizes descended on the group of cultists on the path. Most of the cultists simply stood there with their arms raised to the skies, as though they were gratefully receiving a gift. They were swiftly brought down by Dremora, scamps and other hideous daedra, without uttering a sound. There were daedra in the group the likes of which I had never seen; a gigantic spiderish creature, and an enormous reptilian one, both of which leaped onto the awaiting cultists and proceeded to tear them apart with pincers and gnashing teeth and bellows filled with bloodlust.

Two tried to run; a man and a woman. Both were shot before they had gone far, with arrows and spears and darts to the legs. They stumbled and fell, and then, rather than being set upon by the daedra that surrounded them, they were hauled up and slung over the shoulders of the Dremora who appeared to be leading the rest, and carried away, screaming in pain and begging for mercy and death alike.

" _Your cowardice will be punished."_

" _Your death will be slow and eternal."_

As the daedra walked away with their victims, I realised I was shuddering violently, and once they were out of view, as though a spell had been broken, I was able to move again. I fell onto my hands and knees as I turned, and heaved up the contents of my stomach, petrified that the sound would attract the daedra to my hiding spot but unable to stop myself.

When it was over, I closed my eyes, and lowered my head, begging the Divines, if they could even hear me from within whatever this plane of existence really was, to help me find a way to overcome the fear so I could proceed. I had to get up, and go on.

 _There is no choice in the matter, Divine assistance or not. Get up,_ I ordered myself.

" _You,"_ a harsh voice, with a thick, rasping accent, spoke close to me.

I whipped up and stared like a startled deer into the hateful, glowing orange eyes of a grey-skinned Dremora. Bile rose inside of me again, and I rushed backwards, pressing my back to the tree I had been hiding behind moments earlier. I grabbed for an arrow and my bow, and nocked it swiftly, drawing and aiming directly between the Dremora's eyes, as a part of me wondered why I wasn't already dead.

"Stay back," I warned, my voice shuddering, but my hands were somehow able to keep my bow steady.

The Dremora stared at the point of the arrow, almost lazily, and then its eyes flashed back to me. "You choose the simple path? That of an animal?" it asked me with a growl.

_Why is it talking to me?_

"I just watched your kind tear people to shreds," I replied, my voice quavering and my nerves making the words leave my lips in a desperate bark. "Why shouldn't I shoot you where you stand?"

_Why are you talking to it?_

The Dremora took another step toward me, its lips curling into a snarl. _"Impertinent mortal! You are in no position to ask questions,"_ it raised a hand to me in warning, though it was still too far to strike out at me. I steadied my arrow, pressing my back even harder into the tree I was already leaning firmly against.

"Stay – right there," I warned it again, hurriedly. "I will fire," I vowed.

 _It's probably preparing to cast a spell_ , I thought frantically. _Fire, before it does!_

The Dremora _laughed_ – a loud, mocking, joyless sound that startled me, and I tightened my grip on my bow as the sound turned my fear into anger.

Soon I knew that the sounds of our exchange would alert others to my hiding spot, and then I would not stand a chance. But for the moment, I had – however slight – the upper hand. I could fire my arrow and fell it, the moment I saw it start to charge a spell. It must have known this; yet still, it mocked me.

When the Dremora had calmed, it glared down at me again. _"You are the one who destroyed the Sigil tower at Ganonah, are you not?"_ it demanded of me in its rough accent.

I didn't know what _Ganonah_ was, but the very fact that it had asked me _anything_ about my exploits in Oblivion made me take pause. The urge to fire and move on with my task was strong, but I stayed my hand – for the moment – and responded.

"I have destroyed many Sigil towers," I told it through clenched teeth.

" _So my kin have said,"_ it replied.

The beast's hand twitched beside its hip; I glanced briefly to see that it was hovering over a long, deadly-looking jagged sword, shoved through a belt at its waist.

It was _restraining_ itself, its instincts, to talk to me. This was completely absurd; so unlike the behaviour of any Dremora I had ever encountered. They were capable of such restraint? What else did that make them capable of?

I was reminded of something Tar-Meena had told me, what felt like eons past in the White-Gold Tower; that they, the Dremora, could be like us, if not for Dagon's grasp on their people.

I shook my head angrily. We were at war. Human-like or not; these were the creatures who had killed so many of my own people. These were the beasts who had killed Caroline. I glared up at it, as this reminder forced itself on me, lighting a fire of its own. My nerves sharpened into a focused, deadly fury; the likes of which I had not felt since the battle in the cave at Lake Arrius.

"You have seconds to live, Dremora," I told it quietly, as I tried to restrain myself. "Make them count."

The Dremora shook its head at me. _"You will never leave this garden, without my help."_

I huffed, trying not to laugh at the ridiculousness of this entire conversation. "Unlikely. Camoran _wants_ me to find him."

" _He also wants to test you; your worthiness,"_ the Dremora added immediately. _"Consider my being here one of those tests. There is but one way out of the Savage Garden, and I guard it."_

I tried to shove these words aside, but they stuck to me. I let out a frustrated cry; there was _no time_ to ponder what Camoran might be testing me for, if this Dremora spoke the truth, and I had just about had enough of this strangely conversational daedra's riddles.

"What do you _want_ of me?" I cried, my eyes flashing, as I looked down my arrow to it again.

The Dremora's black lips pulled back to reveal a row of pointed teeth; it took me a moment to realise it was _grinning_ at me. _"I want to humiliate you. To force you to beg and scrape in my service as you plead for passage will bring me honour. The alternative is worse than any fate you can imagine me capable of giving to you."_

 _Enough,_ I decided. I was not going to stand with my back against this tree pointing my arrow at this Dremora, and let it continue to play with me, for a moment longer. The rage I had been holding back suffused me at its words; at its _certainty_ that I would submit to it; and I angled my arrow down slightly from my original target of between its eyes, and fired at its throat, to stop it from speaking any longer.

My arrow found its mark before the Dremora had realised what had happened, and it went from snarling certainty, to silent shock, as it stumbled backwards, clutching at its neck.

As it faltered, I grasped another arrow and swiftly fired again; this time taking out one of it's hateful orange eyes. A thick grey hand shot up to try claw the arrow from its head, as it toppled to the lush grass beneath our feet.

Eyes narrowing, knowing that it would not survive that arrow for long, I reached back as I took a steady step toward it and then fired again, aiming at its knee; crippling it, as its kin had done to the fleeing Dawn agents, only moments ago.

The Dremora crashed onto its back now, clawing at the arrow sticking out of the centre of its neck with one hand and the one in its eye with the other, as it convulsed its death throes.

Before I could stop to think about what I was doing, and feeling oddly calm about what was before me, I leaned casually forward, taking the sword from the beast's belt. I studied the strange, ragged object as I raised it. It had only stopped from using this so it could play with me before it killed me, and then boast about what it had done to its kin. I saw no other reason for it to have spoken to me.

I kept a firm grip of my bow in one hand, as I grasped the heavy blade's handle with the other and pressed the wide, blunt tip against the Dremora's chest, leaning my weight down onto it and pushing the sword into the creature's heart.

"I do not _bargain_ with you, or your kind," I gritted my teeth at the creature, as the beast's black blood bubbled out of its chest and mouth. Its one remaining eye flickered to me, I thought, but it was difficult to tell through the haze of fury that had taken hold of me, and the shudders the creature was making from its fatal injuries. I let go of the Dremora's sword, and left it where it lay; embedded in its owner's chest.

The Dremora died, and I stared down at it, realising that I was gasping for breath, but I made myself watch as the sounds the Dremora was making ceased and the quiet serenity of Camoran's Paradise took hold of the realm once more.

I felt anything but calm, now. I warred with myself; asking desperately what I had done - _how could I have done such a thing_? Then I shook my head at myself. This was only the beginning of my avenging Caroline's death.

 _That is not why you are in Paradise,_ the first voice, which sounded a little like Caroline, reminded me sternly. _Seek revenge and you will do something more stupid than this, and die, and then Martin, and everybody you love in Tamriel, will be lost._

"Who is she?"

I whipped my head around at the question. A voice – a human voice, this time.

I had been so focussed on killing the Dremora that I hadn't noticed we _had_ drawn an audience. I stared up at the ten or so men and women, recognising them instantly; the Dawn cultists who I had seen torn to pieces, only minutes earlier. They looked fine. Healthy, even. The calm fury that had steadied me fled, as a hollow dread enveloped me at the sight of them.

"You...you _died_ ," I shook my head at them accusingly.

They all looked amused at this, and a couple of them laughed; heartily, not cruelly, which made their laughter all the more chilling. One of the men; a tall Breton with shoulder-length grey hair and blood splattered across his torso and one of his arms, stepped forward, and I took a step back.

"How little you understand," he spoke fondly as though speaking to a child, while he stepped toward me. "We cannot ever truly die, once we have proven ourselves to our Master."

I realised I had been shaking my head for a while now, but couldn't stop myself from continuing to do so as I stared, wide-eyed, at the man. "You were torn limb from limb!"

"And it is the gift of our Master that we are reborn," one of the women spoke up reverently. "Come, sister; cast your doubts and mantle aside, and join us. Rejoice, for you are Immortal, now."

_They don't know who you are._

I gaped at the crowd, who were standing and observing calmly as though there wasn't a dead Dremora a few steps in front of them. I startled again, when the face of the Breton who had been walking toward me swam into my field of view.

He had ducked down to my level; was peering into my face, as though I was a particularly interesting specimen. "You _are_ a pretty one," he whispered, to himself almost.

Before I had answered; and in truth, I wasn't certain how to answer him; a grunting groan captured our attention.

The cultists turned to look calmly; I, not so calmly, as my heart raced and blood pounded in my ears. I watched, forgetting all about the Dawn immortals, as the Dremora I had just killed reached out and drew the sword from its chest with another, sharper grunt. Its black blood splattered across the grass in an arc as it flicked the sword with one hand, and then it sat up, pulling the arrow from its eye socket with a 'pop'. It swivelled where it had fallen, to regard me with one glaring orange eye, and one black chasm where its other eye had once been.

"Ah," the Breton man who had stooped down to my level rose back to his full height slowly. "Try not to show fear, or it will punish you. There is honour in meeting a Dremora Lord in battle, sister," he schooled me.

I barely heard the man, as I continued to stare, wide-eyed at the Dremora, as it also rose to its full height. Its look turned me to stone; I couldn't move.

"There is more honour in receiving the bliss of death at their hands as they will it," another of the cultists called out to me in a sing-song voice, from the crowd of onlookers. "You should have let it take you, sister. You will need to submit, now, or face an eternity of deaths as a non-believer," the cultist added, in an animated, almost excited voice.

_Snap!_

I startled, as the Dremora broke off the end of the arrow that protruded from its throat, its single eye never leaving me.

"Does nothing die in this place?" I asked nobody, anybody, in a voice that was small an insubstantial to my ears.

"Never for long," the Breton man took a step back from me, bowing his head to the Dremora as it passed him without even a look in his direction. "It is the gift of the Master's Paradise."

With another wet _pop_ , the Dremora tugged what remained of the arrow to its throat free. I began to shudder, as I watched the hole I had made close over, and the beast stepped up in front of me.

It observed me, for what felt like minutes; the place where its eye had once been shifting and flickering, as a new eye began to form in the hole. I felt the other cultists retreat from the glade somewhat, though the Dremora rebuilding itself warranted all of my attention.

"Kill me, then," I dared it, in a hush. "Live endlessly in this pitiful existence you call Paradise where you torture one another for fun."

The Dremora's hand shot forward immediately; it grabbed me around the throat and lifted me up, so that only the toes of my boots brushed the grass underfoot.

 _"You think death awaits you?"_ it asked in an icy hiss of a voice, as it casually shook me.

I tried to cry out at the pain but was unable to make a sound as I dropped my bow and struggled, grabbing for the Dremora's wrist with both of my hands in a futile attempt to break its grip. Tears sprung to my eyes and I gasped for air when its grip tightened slightly; enough to make my throat burn as I tried to keep breathing, but not enough to crush it.

The creature reached behind itself for a moment, and then brought the hand that didn't hold me up off the ground forward again; holding out a pair of large, heavy-looking chained bracers.

Through the fear, through the pain, I was dimly aware of the gasps and reverent cooing sounds being made by the Dawn cultists.

"She has been _Chosen_ ," I heard one of them whisper.

 _Chosen for what_ , I wondered bleakly as the Dremora let go of me, finally, and I crumpled to the ground, grasping at my throat and taking in great, sweet lungfuls of air in gulps.

" _On your feet, churl!"_ the Dremora roared at me, grasping my hair and wrenching me upward, hard; so hard that as a scratchy, pitiful scream tore its way out of my throat, I was certain that it was about to rip my hair out.

As soon as I had risen, the bracers were secured about my wrists, binding my hands together, and then before I regained even a small amount focus through the pain the Dremora had induced, I was turned. It pushed at the centre of my back, and commanded that I walk.

With no choice but to cooperate, I took step after stumbling step over the soft grass, and then we were back on the white stone pathway. The Dremora pushed and kicked at me almost constantly, to force me onward, always a step in front of it but never far enough to be out of its reach.

As I was herded to whatever fate the it was planning for me, I saw the faces of ascended Dawn cultists and daedra alike, as we passed them. None tried to stop us.

I stumbled in a gap between two of the white stones, and the Dremora's heavy hand gripped the back of my cloak, and dragged me back to my feet once more.

"Where are you taking me?" I rasped at it; my throat raw from its hold on me before. While minutes ago I had wanted nothing but to silence the creature, I now found it more unnerving knowing that it could speak and was choosing to remain silent.

The only response I received was another shove to my back.

Casting my mind about for a way free of this – though truly, I could see none – I decided to try what I told myself was impossible; to reason with the Dremora.

"Look, I am sorry that I didn't listen to you properly in the grove," I attempted hurriedly, my voice leaving my lips in a wispy croak. "But I am listening now – you have made your point – and if you would speak again-"

The Dremora's hand gripped my cloak again as it shook me, before pushing me forward.

" _I do not bargain with you, or your kind,"_ the Dremora grunted with a soulless sort of laughter.

The very fact that this Dremora had a concept of irony shook me anew. My own words, used against me, bounced between my ears as the Dremora lead me on, to a rock wall. It was unnaturally smooth, with a small symbol of a sun carved and painted blood-red within it.

I had no time to wonder what we were doing, as the Dremora's iron grip sealed around the back of my neck, and swiftly pushed my head forward, toward the wall.

"No-!" I uttered, trying to flail backwards and slamming my eyes shut as I realised he was about to bash my face against the rock.

My efforts were in vain; I was no match for the strength of the Dremora. But instead of the crash of stone as it shattered my skull, I felt a sandy roughness brush against me, and then wetness flooded over my legs and hips, and I was immersed in liquid, up to my waist. I gasped, opening my eyes, to look upon a dimly lit, flooded cavern.

The stone wall had been...another porthole?

I stared as my eyes stung at the swift change from evening light to darkened cave, as the Dremora towed me after it, now; its hand secured around the links of chain that joined the gauntlets sealed around my wrists. The water that we waded through rippled around us as we moved.

I stumbled along after it, taking in what I could of this new location, as I told myself, over and over again, that I had to focus and find a way out of this, and find Mankar Camoran.

As though bidden by the very thought of him, Camoran's voice was back in my head, even louder and clearer than it had been before.

" _Well done, little dove! You have chosen an unorthodox path by antagonising a daedroth, but it is a step forward, nonetheless."_

I looked down, to watch the water and my progress through it, so that I would keep from stumbling from the force behind his declarations. His voice resonated through me so savagely that I felt it would sweep my feet out from under me if I wasn't mindful of where I placed them.

A part of me wondered that he did not simply command the Dremora to bring me to him, and with an unexpected tug from the beast who lead me, my feet did slip on the worn rocks and silt that littered the bed of the waterway. I fell with a flailing splash, and cold, salty water rushed over me.

" _Look at how you gasp and stumble as you cling to the last breaths of your dying age,"_ Camoran mocked, as the Dremora tugged me up and out of the water by my bindings, roughly setting me on my feet again. With a glare, it resumed towing me after it.

" _The walls between our worlds are crumbling,"_ Camoran continued. _"Neither you nor I, nor the Septims' covenant, can stop it any longer. Very soon, the lines blurred will be erased."_

The Dremora lead me around a corner in the network of flooded tunnels, and dragged me up onto the banks of the cavern's sea and onto a dry pathway. Not far from where we emerged, I could see two daedra – the spidery kind, that I had seen out in the garden for the first time – spinning a web of sticky thread around a Dawn cultist, who was pinned to a barrel by several jagged spears through her abdomen. Her mouth had already been filled with web, but her eyes were free – and wide, and shocked. They pleaded with me as I was dragged past her.

Jauffre's words to me, on the road between Bruma and Cloud Ruler Temple, filled me as I continued to be dragged after the Dremora.

_You are hopelessly unmatched, if you intend on facing Mankar Camoran._

I stared at the cultist, feeling the blood drain from my face; he was right. He was so right, and I was a fool for thinking that the mere weeks I had spent fighting in Oblivion had prepared me for this. During my battles, thus far, I had always had another by my side; someone stronger, braver, and faster than I. Someone who always had my back.

But not this time. I had scorned Jauffre's warning, out of vanity and egotism, and run into the den of the man who had caused all the horror and pain that Tamriel had been enduring for months, all by myself.

The woman being slowly spun into the daedra web, to be devoured, shuddered weakly in her binds as one of the spidery creatures stuck a fang through her arm, before it sealed it into place with more of the sticky goo.

Then we turned down a tunnel, and I mercifully saw no more of her torture.

Camoran laughed in my head. _"Such fear; such remorse. I see that you begin to understand that your quest to stop Lord Dagon has been in vain. When the fear has quietened your soul's false hope, you shall begin to realise your true path; the path that He and I have long known you must walk; the path which you can no longer deny. And while you awaken, He shall walk Tamriel again, and the world shall be purified in the refiner's fire."_

He was gone again, and I felt myself reaching, almost begging for him to begin talking again, as much as it shamed me to think it; but his words were a distraction from the scenes of torture that met us at every turn in the cavern. Men and women – cultists, I tried to remind myself; cultists who had hunted me and killed men and women and children before they had been brought to their torture – were being drawn out, burned, flayed, torn to pieces and reassembled, as the Dremora lead me ever-silently onward. Sometimes, their screams echoed around the cavern, and other times, their pleas for mercy were drowned out by snaps and gurgles.

Able to bear it no longer, and fearing that despite Camoran's assurances that I would soon go to him, I was to be tortured and killed in this cave very soon, I turned my eyes down and watched where I placed my feet along the rocky pathway. I couldn't drown out the sounds of torture, but I didn't have to watch them any longer.

Soon the Dremora came to a halt, and I felt a hot wind fan my cheeks. I looked up, as the beast began to talk to a man in a red Mythic Dawn robe. It had brought me to a large chamber with many exits, surrounded by rivers of molten rock, with several empty cages suspended over it. A long table was nearby, covered in blood-encrusted knives, hammers, shears, an array of small bottles – poisons, I assumed - and strips of leather.

" _Listen well,"_ the Dremora towered over the man. _"I have captured the one who you pitiful mortals were unable to,"_ he boasted with haughty pride.

I noticed the eyes of the Dawn agent flicker toward me from under his hood, and tried not to shrink back as a startled recognition graced his features.

So, this one recognised me, then.

The Dremora continued, _"Your master believes that she will attend on him at Carac Agaialor, in time. But until such a time as she proves herself worthy,"_ the Dremora then turned to me, as he delivered his last orders to the Dawn agent, with a threatening snarl, _"you will question her, and you will wring her deepest, darkest secrets from her flesh,"_ the Dremora flung me forward. Unable to stop myself in time, I was propelled into the arms of the awaiting Dawn agent.

"Understood," the Dawn agent replied curtly, as he pushed me away from him.

Feeling like a rag doll being thrown about by cruel children, I tried to regain my footing as I stumbled and cried out, but the Dawn agent's hand snaked forward, landing solidly on my shoulder, and with a weighty shove, he pushed me back down again.

"Kneel, be silent, and show some respect," he ordered me, dismissively, then turned to face the Dremora again. "Is there anything else, sirrah, or shall I begin at once?"

The Dremora's rumbling reply made me grateful that my eyes were turned down.

" _Bring her to the brink of her death, but do not let her die. Lord Dagon thirsts for her blood, and only He shall have it."_

 _So_ , I thought bleakly, as its words washed over me and my heart thudded madly in my chest. _We're back to that old riddle._

I stared at the ground, at the glowing red light of the molten rock around us, and watched the shadows that played and danced in the light fitfully.

How had I lost my way, so quickly, I wondered? How was I to survive this – escape – and locate Camoran, and the Amulet, as the Emperor had said I would do? There _had_ to be a way. It could not end like this, in fire and pain.

To distract from the prospect of torture to the brink of death, I forced myself to think on these questions. I _had_ to escape. Perhaps I could reason with this Dawn agent; perhaps he would listen, and believe, that Mankar Camoran wanted me to go to him; that by keeping me here, he was opposing his Master's will.

Hands were on my arms, dragging me to my feet. I closed my eyes as I felt hot tears leak down my face, for all my attempts to distract myself.

_There has to be a way. You have to get the Amulet back to Martin._

The hands were on my bound wrists, then, and the Dawn agent that I had been left with was saying something to me.

I shook my head; shook the tears away; as I opened my eyes to face my soon-to-be torturer. "What did you say?" my voice came out in a gasp; my throat still hot and raw.

The agent – an Altmer, I could see now – raised an eyebrow and gave me a look of exasperation. "I said that you can stop your blubbering. Kathutet has gone. I'm going to release you."

_Clink-chink._

The bracers binding my wrists together were uncoupled and the Dawn agent caught them before they could clatter to the ground.

"There we are," he sighed and placed the bracers on the table, next to his torture implements.

I wasn't certain what was happening, but the cold calmness of the Altmer was somehow more terrifying than the Dremora's simmering rage had been.

"This is a trap," I rasped quietly. "Is it part of your torture?" I swallowed to try and ease my throat, trying to calm my racing heart, that hadn't stopped racing for some time now. "Do you make me believe that I am freed to give me hope, before you begin and take it away?"

"What?" the Altmer laughed softly, as he turned from his table, back to face me. I heard an edge of cruelty, or insanity, or perhaps it was futility, in his laughter; I couldn't decide which. I simply stood there, and watched him closely, certain that he was about to strike at any moment.

"No," he sighed, recovering slightly as he held something small out to me. "There is no trick here."

I risked looking down to what he was holding as curiosity got the better of me. Then I gaped. It was a bottle – a healing potion.

"Take it," he prompted, when I stared back up at him with questions in my eyes. "For your neck, and throat," he added.

I eyed the bottle, full of disbelief, and wariness.

"It is not poison," the agent sighed, pressing it into my hands. "But throw it into the lava, if that will make you feel better."

Then he turned away, casting a look toward the exit; watching for someone. "Now, go," he said hurriedly, turning back swiftly and motioning for me to move into one of the passages that lead away from the chamber. "Go, and bring an end to this eternal nightmare."

He distractedly turned back again, to watch one of the other cavern entrances, and I could only gape as I wondered, still, if this was some sort of cruel trick. Clasping both of my hands around the bottle he'd passed me, I took a couple of hesitant steps backwards, and couldn't help but ask; "Who are you?"

Seemingly frustrated with my lack of action, the Altmer shook his head at me, and motioned for me to go again. "Quickly, go now! Orthe comes!" he hissed.

I turned as I set off at a run, unsure of who Orthe was, or why the Altmer had helped me.

I ran into the passage that the Dawn agent had motioned for me to take, certain that I was about to be stopped; shot, or grabbed hold of, by something or someone, and that then my torture would begin. There was no way an agent of the Mythic Dawn could have just shown me genuine mercy.

_You didn't think a Dremora would stop and talk to you either, and look where that got you._

The attack that I was certain would leap out at me at any moment didn't come. I ran onward, before I spotted a place to hide, and ducked into the shadow between two boulders in one of the open areas of the cave network.

I pressed my back against the warm stone and breathed deeply, gasping in relief and thanking whichever of the Divines had just spared me from the fate the Dremora had lead me to. I cast aside the bottle that the Dawn agent had handed me, and instead fumbled for one of the healing potions that had been supplied for me by the Blades. I drank the thick, cool liquid down greedily, as a weight of pent-up terror pushed at me and was released. I felt my throat and neck mending, and I let myself sink to the ground, unable to hold myself up for a moment longer as relief took hold of me.

" _Thank you,"_ I whispered in my mind, again and again, as I put the empty bottle back into Caroline's pack, and then pushed my hair back from my forehead. It had completely fallen out of its binding, and was now a sweaty, ragged mess.

" _You're welcome,"_ Mankar Camoran's voice cut through my thoughts like a knife.

I looked up. No, this was not his doing. This was the work of one of his cultists; disillusioned by this false Paradise. Camoran could not have set him up; he didn't tolerate non-believers. I had seen that in the garden, for myself.

" _When will you see the truth of what is before you?"_ Camoran's reply sounded slightly more annoyed than his previous invasions. _"You have walked in my garden; been shown the gifts that I have bestowed upon my faithful. Yet still, you doubt my influence; my power?"_

Still shaky from all that had happened since I'd entered Paradise, I stood tentatively. Why was he testing me like this, if he believed that it was my destiny to face him?

I heard Camoran's sigh; another confirmation that he was reading my very thoughts. _"Patience, Sarina. Do you forget your training?"_

A pause, and then; _"Often I forget how young you are; how raw and earnest. Had I plucked you out of my garden and brought you into Carac Agaialor, your mind would not have begun to open as it now has."_

My feet carried me forward, though I was barely aware of it, as I followed the sound of Camoran's voice. There were no more scenes of torture to meet me on my path; or, if there were, I didn't notice them either. A victorious confidence propelled me, assuring me that if I followed his words and I would find him. Idly, I wondered if I had come upon the idea myself, or if it had been implanted by Camoran? Regardless; wanting to be free of the caverns and their horrors, I continued on.

" _When you entered Gaiar Alata you were but the last defender of an ignoble dynasty. Now – and you cannot deny it, for I can feel it is so – you are a handful of steps away from a glorious, cathartic rebirth. And I, the midwife of the Mythic Dawn; shall deliver you your awakening,"_ the voice in my head took on a more zealous, prophetic air, but still I moved onward, driven by an urgency that I wasn't entirely sure was my own, _"and then I shall rise through the ashes with Lord Dagon, to rule over Tamriel Reborn."_

I came to a dead end; my path blocked by another wall of smooth, solid stone. I squinted at the rock face through the darkness, running my hands over it until I found what I knew would be there; the tiny carving of a sun.

I touched it, barely, and saw the rock wall shimmer.

" _How swiftly you learn the laws of my making,"_ Camoran spoke up in a purr, with evident admiration in his tone. _"I have Chosen you well."_

Wishing him gone from my head now I had found my way, I reached out a hand. When I should have pressed against the wall, I found that my hand could pass right through it, as though it was no longer there.

Without another moment's pause, I stepped through the gateway, and left the eternal torture of the fallen Mythic Dawn agents behind me.

–

I emerged, and was in another part of the garden. The sky was still purple; a seemingly permanent evening; and the cool, calm breeze ruffled my hair and cloak, as it had done when I had first arrived. The air felt pleasantly cool, and was a sweet balm to breathe after the oppressive, humid dankness of the caves.

Before me was another white-stone path; this one lined with short white columns wound with ivy, upon which clusters of short, thin red candles sat, flickering in the breeze but not extinguishing. At the end of the short pathway rose clusters of impossibly tall, pristine white stone columns and arches; an Ayleid structure, if ever I had seen one. Like all I had seen in the Paradise gardens, it was flawless.

There didn't appear to be any daedra or cultists, this side of the garden, so for a time all was silent, and calm, and maddeningly beautiful, as I approached the monolithic structure. This must have been where Mankar Camoran was waiting; his palace; _Carac Agaialor,_ I had heard it called.

The stones seemed to glow, despite the fading light, and glittered as the candle flames danced across them. Manicured gardens wound around the base of the structure, filled with enormous blue and purple flowers, the likes of which I had never seen in Tamriel. This was truly a place created, and living, by magical means.

As I drew closer to the palace, I hesitated, as I noticed two figures dressed in the red cloaks of the Mythic Dawn walking down a large, thin flight of stairs toward me.

Automatically, I reached for my bow, and then froze as I realised that I had dropped it in the garden when the Dremora had grabbed me, and had never been able to recover it.

I paled. I was armed with only a sword that I didn't know how to use properly; arrows that I couldn't fire; and was about to face and try to kill Mankar Camoran.

"Oh, I have _missed_ the sight of that trembling lip as you quake in your boots with nowhere to run, Sarina."

The voice was soulless and familiar to me; a voice from my memories; my nightmares. I drew in a breath as I looked more closely at the approaching Dawn agents.

And there she was; Ruma Camoran, and she was grinning at me, her eyes shining with smugness and all the hatred I remembered seeing in her face when she had been bound and caged in Kvatch. "You did not expect to see me again, did you?" she asked me pompously.

The other robed figure with her laughed; a cruel, sharp sound which made me jump. " _This_ is the little thing that you could not capture? For shame, sister."

I tore my eyes from Ruma Camoran to look at the other, and saw a face that was her mirror image, if not a little wider around the jaw.

"You must be Raven," the words tumbled out of my mouth dryly before I could stop them.

_Slap._

My cheek burned; Ruma's hand had swung out and struck me. I brought my own hand up instinctively, pressing against the hot, stinging hand mark on my cheek as my eyes flashed at her and hatred that I hadn't thought myself capable of feeling surged through me, drowning out the sounds of all else around us. The memory of her promising to deliver me a lesson in pain, before she had killed herself in the Kvatch dungeons, swam to the front of my mind.

"You do not get to speak," she told me casually; the hand that had hit me raised and poised to strike again. "And you will _not_ be needing that, where you're going," she nodded to my sword belt, sounding almost bored. "Give it to me."

I stared up at her mutinously, as I unconsciously took a step back.

Perhaps I was operating on instinct; trying to put distance between myself and a woman who wanted to kill me. Belatedly, I told myself that I should have run the moment that I had seen them descending the staircase; but when I had first seen them, I had not realised who they were.

 _But their father; he wants you to reach him,_ I reminded myself, through the haze. _She will not satisfy her desire if it means defying her father._

Still; the urge to back away, to fire – if only I had my bow! - it was too strong. They saw the movement, of course, and before my single step backward had been completed, Raven threw his head back and laughed again. His sister's hand shot forward, and this time I tried to block the blow and turn away. Ruma's fist glanced off my temple, stunning me for a moment, and I staggered as she grasped my arm roughly to hold me upright, and keep me from falling.

She made a disgusted sound as she pushed me toward her brother, and Raven grabbed hold of me and continued to laugh. I was still too dazed from the blow to my temple to react, as Raven's hands fell to my sword belt, and then it was being jostled and unbuckled.

He threw it aside without even a glance at it, and then pushed me away from him, toward the stairs.

I stopped myself from crashing into them but fell hard enough on my hands and knees to wince. I made sure I didn't cry out; I would not give them the satisfaction. I grit my teeth and pushed myself to my feet, then stared up, up along the stairs before me, glowering at the sealed doorway at the top.

Ruma and Raven flanked me, as they each took one of my arms and made me stand.

"My father expected you hours ago," Raven told me, as we began to ascend.

I kept my eyes on the doorway we walked toward, and refused to show any signs of acknowledgement. Forcing a mask of coolness over me; a mask I had been taught to wear, during my youth; I took step after step, assuring myself that whatever was to come, I would be watchful, and mindful; I would bear it, and I would find my way free of it.

Camoran's children were still talking to me, but their words glanced off me. They rambled on about the glory of the Mythic era; of how soon, Mehrunes Dagon would walk Tamriel once again; of how their father was preparing a special place for me, which would bring his long war with the Septims to a final, unequivocal close.

"Lord Dagon still wants your blood," Ruma added with a leer, "though, your worth has somewhat diminished, now you have been rutted by the Septim pretender."

"A trifle," Raven said dismissively, "that Dagon can erase during her awakening."

We reached the landing, and I set my jaw and stared forward still. Of course, the talk of remaking, awakening, and rebirth that I had endured, during Camoran's ramblings and now his children's, did make me nervous. Prior to reaching Paradise, I had been told, time and time again, that Camoran wanted to kill me. He wanted my soul; Dagon wanted my blood; and the two were of such a base and brutal mind that I thought it to be exactly as it sounded. They wanted to destroy me; erase me from history; as was the mandate of the Daedric Prince of Destruction; be it for my part in the delaying of their plans through my closure of the Oblivion gates, or some prophecy they had deigned me to be part of from the ramblings of an Elder scroll.

 _No,_ I stared up at the doors, as I heard my blood rushing through my ears and felt my heart hammering in my chest. _Focus on your task._

I had promised myself that I would question the role that I played in Camoran and Dagon's game no more. It was too distracting, and in truth, it no longer mattered. I was here, and I would either learn the reason for it, or I would not, but I would not let it stop me from achieving my primary goal.

The stones either side of the doorway arched up, and the tablets that the door itself was made from were encrusted with small, polished stones that caught the flickering candle light aqueously. Ruma let go of my arm to step forward, though Raven's hold on me was still as firm as it ever had been.

She pushed open the door, and the two halves of stones split down the middle, showing only darkness beyond them.

 _Kill Mankar Camoran,_ I told myself, as I made myself stare at the darkness. I felt Raven's hand grasp hold of my arm tighter, as he tugged me forward. _Retrieve the Amulet._

That was my quest; all else was irrelevant. I would not be seduced by the possibility of explanations to Mankar Camoran's riddles.

I stepped into the blackness, with the Camoran children either side of me, and as we passed the threshold and back into the light, I saw _him_.

It felt odd to look upon his tall, thin frame, when only his voice had invaded my thoughts for these months past. It reminded me that of course, there was a body connected to the malevolent, ethereal speaker.

He sat upon a large stone throne in a well-lit, cavernous room, dressed in royal blue robes and wearing the Amulet of Kings. He rose to his feet the moment he saw us, his face shifting from thoughtfulness to an expression of welcome.

"You have come," he held out his hands, as he began to descend the stairs. "Now, _finally_ , we can bring an end to these silly games."

I refused to speak to him, as I focused on the object around his neck; the Amulet that I needed to retrieve. Raven let go of my arm and pushed me forward, and as I righted myself and smoothed my hands down my front as they curled into fists, Camoran smiled knowingly at me.

He raised a hand to his neck; to the chain that held the Amulet, and slowly drew the golden links bearing the red diamond up, and over his head, clasping it in his hand and letting the stone dangle beneath his grip.

"You want this, don't you?" he asked me in a soft, but animated tone, his golden eyes bright, and excited. "Take it."


	47. The Heart of Paradise

_Take it?_

Suspicion flared, but I tried to assuage it as I took a hesitant step forward, keeping my hands firmly by my sides. The urge to draw an arrow from my quiver was strong, and I had to keep reminding my racing mind that I had no bow to fire with. I tore my gaze from the red diamond dangling under Mankar Camoran's closed fist, and glanced at him uncertainly.

On the edge of my awareness, I noticed Raven and Ruma withdraw. There had been no sign for them to do so; no word from Camoran, yet still they just left. I realised that this entire meeting was running to a script that Camoran had invented. He had planned every movement of every person; every word he would say, and likely, anticipated every response that he might receive. We were all merely puppets in a show, to him.

"That's right," Camoran urged quietly. "You're almost there. After all this time; all you have sacrificed," he added excitedly. "Stand before me, and you shall have the Amulet."

 _No,_ I told myself. There was no possibility of him giving me the Amulet. But if he wanted me to believe that I could have it, I would play along.

What choice did I have but to let him believe that I would fall into the trap that he was setting for me? I was, as Jauffre had said, hopelessly unmatched against Mankar Camoran. Perhaps it was why Camoran had allowed me to come so far; because I posed absolutely no threat to him.

Perhaps _this_ was why it was I who had had to travel to Gaiar Alata, instead of a member of the Blades, or someone who could have met him more equally in battle. Perhaps anyone who could have fought him properly would have been disposed of before they had reached him.

But me? There had been no need to worry about me. I had been allowed to walk through his Paradise; been lead into his palace; and was now unarmed and being told to approach him.

I cloaked my fears by calling up my training, to make myself at least outwardly serene and unreadable. And while he had insisted that the games were finally over between us, I played along with this one; watching for an opportunity – any opportunity.

There would be no second chances.

Camoran clearly didn't feel as though he needed to mask his emotions, and his eyes glinted with an anticipation that sent my heart racing even faster than it already was. He was blatantly revelling in playing with me; tormenting me. It was almost as though he was able to gain strength from my barely concealed trepidation.

"Good girl," he told me in a voice that one might use on a favourite pet, as I stopped on the step below him, in front of him.

I turned up to him, making myself meet the golden glare bearing down on me from his long and angular face. This was the closest I had ever been to him; but that wasn't saying much, considering that it was the second time I had been in his presence. His eyes were ageless, and intelligent, but marred with fanaticism and the glaze of insanity. I felt like I knew these eyes, or perhaps it was more that I felt they knew _me_ ; for hadn't he told me that he had watched my progress, during one of his invasions of my thoughts?

"I have waited a long time for you, little dove," he drew his hands together in front of him, and I couldn't help but flinch as I prepared myself for the blow that I was so certain was to follow.

My response seemed to amuse him even more, and a wicked smile spread across his face as he turned his head slightly, and instead of striking me, grasped the golden links in both of his hands, lifted the chain up, and then held the Amulet of Kings out, poised over my head.

 _What is going on,_ I wondered in panic? _He is going to give it to me?! Why?_

"The Septims hid you well from Lord Dagon and I," Camoran lowered his hands and placed the chain around my neck; his long fingers drifting across and settling on my collarbone as he let go of it. There was a look of pride on his face. "But see? _You_ can wear the Amulet of Kings, when the Empire would have you believe that only one of the Septim bloodline might do so. It is just as the Elder Scroll foretold," he hissed; "yours is a path that _soars_ , higher than that of breeding sow to the Septim pigs," he spat the last.

I flinched again, at the ferocity in his voice, too afraid to breathe. Despite promising that I would maintain a mask of neutrality before him, I felt my eyes widen, as I glanced down to see the red diamond of the Amulet of Kings, settled on my chest.

"The Elder Scroll told you that I would be able to wear the Amulet?" I asked quietly, finding my voice as I looked back up to Camoran, reminding myself to not take my eyes off him. _Find an opportunity._

Camoran smiled, somewhat patiently, and I could feel that he was still enjoying our little chat immensely. "I saw a _convergence_ in the Elder Scroll," he let his hands drift off my collarbone, then held one out, for me to take. "I did not realise that it meant you, until you walked out of the White-Gold tower wearing the Amulet of Kings on the day that you were supposed to die."

I kept my hands where they were, by my sides, as I thought I felt the Amulet flutter slightly, but it could have been my own heart, quivering nervously. "The Amulet lets any who are Septim wear it," I tried to explain logically. "And I was going to become a Septim," I reasoned.

When I had fled the Tower that day, I hadn't remembered that I shouldn't have been able to wear the Amulet of Kings. I had put it around my neck, wanting to use both of my hands to swim, and had forgotten that it should have slipped straight off me, when it hadn't. I had only thought of doing as the Emperor had asked, and of putting one foot in front of the other as I had stumbled toward the Priory after enduring the horror of Ebel's murder, the Emperor's assassination and the weight of his final words to me.

"You were to be a Septim in name only," Camoran narrowed his eyes slightly, as he reached forward and grasped my hand.

Immediately, I tried to pull away, but he was stronger, and squeezed my fingers; hard enough to wordlessly warn me that I needn't bother trying _that_ again, but not hard enough to bring pain.

"The Passero clan - your ancestors - _disgraced_ themselves in their service to the Septims, scraping for notice like dogs begging for scraps from the dinner table," he continued, as he pulled me toward him, and made me take a step up, to join him on the one he was upon. "Though, not once did Passero and Septim blood mix," he added with some satisfaction, as he took a step back, and tugged on my hand again. Unable to match his force, I had to take another step and meet him again.

He lead me up the stairs that he had descended when I had first been brought into the room, and continued. "Wearing the Amulet should have been impossible, regardless of any alliance your marriage would have created. Unless," he flashed me a hooded glance, "you were deemed _worthy_ ," he raised his eyebrows significantly at me.

"Little did I realise that a paltry Imperial maiden, _barely_ a woman, would be the exalted convergence from whom all future paths might be decided."

My hand stung and tingled in his tight grip as I started to lose feeling in it, and my feet moved automatically, under Mankar Camoran's insistent coaxing.

I felt that I was going to be sick, but my stomach was already empty. This was madness. Camoran obviously had something planned for me; something more monumental than death; but his rehearsed speech was yet to give me any hint as to _what_ , exactly.

"Do you realise what this means, Sarina?" he asked then.

I made myself continue to look forward, at the throne we were nearing, as I pursed my lips and shook my head; in part to answer his question, so that he would explain, and in part pleading, begging, for him to just stop; stop talking.

"It means that you and I are alike, despite your," he considered, then indicated me as a whole, "race," he settled, speaking the word with a curl of distaste. "I; the harbinger of rebirth, and you; the nexus of convergence."

I couldn't find any words to respond with as I was filled with a weighty sense of dread. We neared the throne, and Camoran turned, to face me, holding onto both of my hands in his iron grip, as he sat down on his throne once more.

"When you staggered out of the White-Gold Tower bearing only your name and the Amulet of Kings, I watched you. Lord Dagon watched you," he added, as though I should be pleased to know such a thing. When I said nothing, he frowned slightly, and with another tug of his hands, he forced me down onto my knees, so that I was bowing before him.

I bit my tongue to keep from crying out as my jarred knees burned and throbbed from the shock of landing on the hard stone.

"The order to have you terminated was revoked. Though," he considered, in morbid hilarity, "one of my more eager disciples did not hear the decree in time; a mistake which he paid for with his life."

I could only assume he was talking about the assassin who had tried to kill me at Rosethorn Hall, and wondered if he expected me to find what he was saying as diverting as he was, or if he was simply laughing at the thought of my near-death.

His amusement eased, and he continued. "How else do you think you were able to travel that day, unmolested, all the way to Weynon Priory?" he asked me pointedly.

My mouth felt dry. Did he expect me to thank him, for this act of – what did he see it as? Mercy? Compassion?

"I don't know why you are telling me this," was all I could think of to respond with. This entire audience, show, play – whatever it was - had been nothing but a horrible, cruel joke. The Amulet of Kings was around my neck; all I needed to do was find a way to kill him and I could be free of him, but a way had yet to present itself to me.

He let go of one of my hands, so that he could rest his arm on the side of the throne. I tried to rise, but he tugged me back down, immediately, with his remaining hand grasping my wrist painfully again, like a vice.

"Because," he said, somewhat tetchily, "it is important to me that you are unblinded, before you are remade," his free hand floated over the arm of the white-stone throne, and when I glanced at where he hovered, I saw that his hand was poised over a long, dark dagger with curved barbs jutting out from its hilt and swirling lines etched over its length.

 _A weapon,_ I thought desperately. If I could get hold of it, I could end this.

His fingertips tickled the blade, and his mouth widened into a nasty smirk as he noticed my attention on it. "See how you _thirst_ for your rebirth? Your mind fights your soul, in a futile attempt to cling to the lies you have been fed your entire life, the very moment you feel the presence of Lord Dagon. Soon, you will _beg_ forgiveness; beg for your freedom," he wrapped his long fingers around the handle of the dagger, and tutted, with a laugh; "But for the moment; you must exercise patience."

The Amulet of Kings fluttered against me, again, and I tore my eyes from the blade and stared at Mankar Camoran as the otherworldly tremble against my chest loaned me some courage.

"Tell me," I whispered, changing my mind. I didn't want him to be silent now. If I could convince him to ramble for a while longer, I could find a way to disarm him, and use his own blade against him.

His hold on my wrist firmed as he crossed his brows at me.

Belatedly, I remembered that he had been reading my thoughts the entire time I had been in Paradise. Why would his physical presence mean that he had stopped doing so?

I closed my eyes in realisation, wondering how I was to preempt one who could pluck a move from my mind before I made it.

After a pause, where I felt that Camoran was allowing me to consider this truth of our situation, he spoke up again.

"You recognise this, do you not?" he asked me smoothly, holding the tip of the dagger out to me.

I leaned back in his grip to keep it from pricking my chin. The light filtering down from above caught the dagger's edge, making it gleam.

I shook my head minutely; quickly; then breathed a sigh of relief as he withdrew the dagger, placing his hand, still woven around the handle, back on the armrest of the throne.

"No, I suppose you might not," he considered, to himself. "Tamriel has _buried_ it, after all. But, _Gaiar Alata_ _transcends_ ," he spoke proudly, "and thus, _Dagon_ himself, also."

I shook my head, glancing at the blade again. Was he saying that the _dagger_ was Mehrunes Dagon? Camoran was beginning to ramble again, and what he was saying was largely disjointed and incoherent, but this was a point that I felt I needed to confirm. If it was as he suggested, then the threats I had endured all of this time, telling me that _Dagon_ would take my blood, made a little more sense.

"I don't understand," I told him plainly.

"I know," he replied, sympathetically. "You have been groomed your entire life so that you might never understand any of this," he cast me a look of pity.

Rage flashed through me, and the Amulet felt heavy, very suddenly; as though it was restraining me. As absurd as the feeling was, it reminded me; I forced my mask of composure forward once more, and commanded myself; _Listen_.

"They took you from your home," he quipped. "You were still a child, and malleable; eager to please; so they raised you as one of them, under the pretence of a betrothal to a man who would never attach himself to you."

I swallowed, but otherwise remained outwardly unaffected, as my heart began to sink. To listen to him, as I had commanded myself to do, would be to allow him the time he needed to tear everything I knew, and loved, to shreds.

"They _knew_ , Sarina," he grated, his words laced with an injustice that he seemed to believe I should feel. "They knew that your path would ascend higher than theirs, and in fear of what you would become, they bent your young mind to their will. Why else would they give a girl-child a Blade as a handmaiden?" his eyes flashed zealously, victoriously. "A _warrior_ as a guardian, through whom you would learn with every movement she made and syllable she spoke to become a defender of the Septim line?"

His reference to Caroline pierced me; like fangs, and then everything after that was venom. I felt his claims seeping into me, weighing me down, clawing at me - determined to crush my spirit and break me.

"I don't believe a word you say," I said, though the words came out of my mouth through a choke.

He wasn't done yet. "Why else would the man you were betrothed to encourage you to take up arms; to learn to shoot the bow, and insist that you train with him each day? They _knew_ , and they shaped you to their design, so that when the time came, you would fight _for_ the unworthy Septims, and not against."

"Why are you telling me this?" I managed to utter. "You _killed_ them," I cried. "You killed them all," I breathed deeply, shakily, trying to stop myself from bursting into tears, because if I did so this would be over, and Camoran would be free to gather me up and bend me to _his_ will.

He seemed pleased by my outburst, and fired back immediately, "Not yet! There is but one who remains. Your ragged priest, the Septim pretender," he snarled. "The lover that you fight so valiantly for. A man who looks so like the one you were supposed to wed; who lavishes the love upon you that you longed to feel for all of those years; a love that he _uses_ to control your actions, in the Septim's final, desperate attempt to clip your wings."

"He knew _nothing_ of his lineage, until I told him of it," I uttered, willing myself to be steady. The mention of Martin being caught up in whatever game Camoran thought the Septims had been playing with me was like a wakening slap. Camoran was so, so wrong, about everything that he thought was truth. "And he only knew me as the one who closed the Oblivion gate at Kvatch, until I told him otherwise."

"Ah yes!" Camoran's face changed, from snarling to triumphant. "The gate at Kvatch! That was where I was up to, before we were diverted," he nodded sideways to the dagger, still firm in his grip.

"You see Sarina, it was when you _chose_ to bravely step into that first Oblivion gate for a man you didn't know that Dagon and I realised the Septim's indoctrination of you to their philosophy was all but complete. It was _then_ that He and I decided that we would need to reclaim and unblind you; to draw out and discard that which had been brainwashed, and remake you to fit once again where you should have belonged."

Suddenly, he twisted my hand in his, and reached out with the dagger, pressing the tip of the blade onto my now-exposed wrist. The tip was warm, more like a razor-sharp fingertip than a cold steel knife. I silently gasped in a breath, and held it as I watched the dagger.

"Do you remember the first passage that you made, after destroying the Sigil tower at Ganonah?" he asked me calmly, intimately.

I shook my head again, my eyes still on the blade point, only dimly aware of what he had asked me. Any more pressure, and he would slice through my veins. I would have minutes to live.

I saw him shaking his head, in the corners of my vision, and he sighed. "It is a shame that you do not. I was unable to reach out to you, then," he spoke regretfully, "as my mortal coil was still tethered to Tamriel; but I observed your ascension, and your audience with Lord Dagon."

 _This_ got my attention, and I tore my widening eyes from the dagger at my wrist, to meet Camoran's gleaming golden ones.

"I...I what?"

I had never regained the memories of my first ascension from Oblivion. There had only ever been the removal of the Sigil stone, and then I had been waking in the chapel in Kvatch, with Martin by my side.

Martin had told me that I had been there for two days, and that I had not slept very much, but I had never pressed him to explain what had happened during that time.

"It was a glorious, cleansing moment," Camoran continued almost enviously. "Lord Dagon held you; inspected you; and during that moment, started His work, to reshape and redirect you, so that you might begin to once again follow your true path."

I squared Camoran with a barely-masked look of horror, feeling the blood drain from my face. "What did he do to me?" I asked; my voice leaving my lips in a growl as I quaked with revulsion.

He smiled patiently at me. "What began then will be completed now," he angled the dagger slightly inward, and I felt it slice into my wrist.

I hissed at the needle-point cutting into me and managed not to scream, but as I brought my other hand up automatically to swat the blade away, Camoran removed the tip of the dagger from my wrist and slashed toward my approaching hand.

Seeing his strike coming, I leaned back, and fell out of his grasp, hard, onto the stone landing that surrounded the throne.

He must have missed the artery, but I held my bleeding wrist with my other hand, and glared up at him from where I had fallen, as fear and fury and panic all fought within me for dominance. "You told me all of that, just so you could kill me with that dagger?"

Camoran stood, towering over me then with eyes full of disdain. He flicked the dagger briefly, and I noticed drops of my blood splatter on and mar the white stone floor. " _Kill_ is such a crude word to use to describe the delicate process of being remade, Sarina. Try to keep up."

There was that word again; _remade. Remaking, rebirth, awakening._ All words that, in this context, told me that I was not to be killed, but tortured to the brink of death, brought back, and tortured again, until they broke me and the words from my mouth pleased them. Spurred on by the stinging pain in my wrist, and the prospect of such a future, a frustrated cry tore its way out of my throat, before I shouted, "What do you _want_ of me?"

A flare of hope - but not my own - rushed through me, trying to ease my despair.

"How is it that you do not understand?" he screamed at me, waving his hand toward me. "She, who can wear the Amulet?"

Aided by what I thought I had felt from the Amulet seconds earlier, more than Camoran's frustration, I stared down at the Amulet on my chest; observing the red diamond where it rested. It looked as it had always looked; inanimate and cold. The rush of hope that I had felt before came again, affirming that it was the source of the warm support.

I regarded Camoran swiftly, with fire in my eyes now as I felt my spirits rising; whether the work of my own, or created by the Amulet - it didn't matter. I found courage, and I let it fill me as I looked death in the face, and promised that I would fight him.

"It has never been your destiny to rule _Tamriel_ , Sarina," his eyes flashed with ardent fanaticism, "but to rule _Paradise._ With your soul remade and willing, and the Amulet of Kings as your anchor; you, and only you, can keep the gates to Paradise open, when I return to Tamriel and usher in the Dawn."

My hand covering the pinprick of a hole that Camoran had made in my wrist was now slick with my own blood, but I could not help from uncovering the wound to reach up and grasp the Amulet, my eyes on Camoran the entire time. My injured wrist throbbed weakly at the loss of pressure, but the Amulet fluttered again, enclosed in my palm, as I was assured once again that hope was not lost.

"You mean to make me your Paradise's Sigil stone?" I asked him directly, remembering Martin's theories on Camoran's relationship to his realm, and his inability to leave it. So, that was why he wanted me; had insisted to his people that I not be killed but brought to him alive. Because without someone who could wear the Amulet of Kings to remain behind him; he had no way of keeping Paradise stable when he left it.

Which meant that Martin had been right. To destroy Paradise, I _did_ have to kill Camoran - before he changed and anchored me to it, to rule in his stead.

He didn't answer me directly, and from the frenzy in his tone, I was uncertain if he had even heard my question. "And once your soul has been cleansed, remade and bound by the Amulet of Kings, and etched into the very fabric of Paradise's creation, Lord Dagon shall return to liberate his birthright; stolen from him by the pretenders you dare to call Gods!"

I watched him from where I had landed on the floor, with my legs curled under me and the Amulet of Kings thrumming lightly, still clasped in my hand. Watching him in all of his mad glory; witnessing firsthand the insanity that I had picked up on while reading his Commentaries on the _Mysterium Xarxes_ , I reminded myself that it wasn't for him to decide what I had been born to do, for all his stolen power.

Even if Dagon had done something to me during my first ascension from Oblivion, Martin had healed me, for days afterwards, and I had awoken as myself, not changed as Camoran insisted I had been. My objective now was still what it had been then, and if anything, my devotion to the Septims had grown stronger with each step I had taken into and back out of Oblivion. I was going to save the last Septim and give him the Amulet that I now wore around my neck. If there was such a thing as prophecy, or destiny, that was the only one I believed.

Camoran's eyes were on me, but he beckoned with the hand that held the dagger. "Now is the time to seek your forgiveness, Sarina. If you don't believe me now, then you will believe me during your next making; or the one after that; or the one a thousand times from now, should it be necessary. You _will_ believe, and you _will_ repent, and when you are ready, you shall rule, and _your_ defection will be the final, crowning glory in my victory against the Septims," he crowed, rejoicing.

I heard the approach of footsteps, and Ruma and Raven Camoran swam into view, stepping up either side of their father. Ruma's perpetually smug look was even harder than usual, and Raven's eyes were filled with a dangerous glare as they bored into me.

"I have promised my daughter that she shall have the right of your first remaking," he told me, as, without even looking at her, he passed the dagger to Ruma. "And my son; the next," he added indulgently.

Ruma took the dagger swiftly and raised an eyebrow at me. Her look should have sent quaking horror shuddering through me, so cold and hateful it was.

"I have been waiting a long time to plunge the Razor into those doleful green eyes," she drawled, as she took a step toward me as she weighed the dagger in her hand.

The words reached me, intending to wound, but I didn't take them in. I felt nothing from what she said; she may as well have spoken in another language. A wash of encouragement surged within me, accompanied by a ringing sound that filled my ears, stemming from the Amulet.

And then the voice of the late Emperor Uriel Septim; soft and calming, with all the tenacity I remembered him for, resonated throughout my entire being.

" _Stand true, dear Sarina. May your heart be your guide, and the Gods grant you strength."_

Mankar Camoran said something, but I only saw his mouth moving as his eyes narrowed. The ringing noise made by the Amulet consumed me entirely, dulling all else. I wasn't certain what was happening, but the reassurance emanating from the Amulet soothed the fear that was coursing through me, so that I was able to watch what was before me; and think.

 _No - you must not overthink this,_ Caroline's voice rose in my mind, commanding and urgent. While I was uncertain about the nature of what was emerging from the Amulet, I felt – and knew, in my heart - that Caroline's voice was but a memory, of lessons past. _Quiet your mind; react, and then act,_ she urged me.

Ruma launched herself at me then, but it was in vain. As her tall frame lunged at me, dagger pointed in her outstretched hand, a golden glow burst out of the Amulet of Kings, and surrounded me. The blade glanced off the Ward that had materialised, and, knowing that this was the only opportunity I would have to escape the fate Camoran had planned for me; begging for death, until I was as insane as them; I rolled myself, slightly; just enough to move out of her way.

 _Balance is infinitely more important than strength,_ Caroline's teachings prompted me again. I stuck my foot out, in front of Camoran's daughter.

Everything seemed to slow down, as Ruma, under her own momentum, crashed over my outstretched leg, and was launched up and forward, down the stairs. She tumbled and crashed down the white expanse of stone, and though I was sure that she would have been screaming, I heard only the ringing of the Amulet in my ears.

I turned back to face Camoran before she reached the bottom of the stairs. I was still in a crouch, but was now ready to run; toward him.

 _Good,_ the Caroline-memory encouraged me. _Now move! And for the love of Talos, draw my dagger, already, my Lady._

This last had not been words I had ever heard her speak to me, but I did as Caroline's voice commanded. I refused to pause and think about how these voices were coming to me. Mankar Camoran had his hands raised, and I saw his lips curl into a snarl of rage as he thrust one hand behind his throne, and withdrew a gnarled staff.

His son had stepped back and, though Raven grimaced as his eyes followed his falling sister, he waved his hand swiftly to cast a spell, and then he was protected; bound in a heavily plated armour. A long, dark sword that glowed purple along one edge materialised in his hand.

 _Caroline's dagger,_ I prompted myself, reaching out to the boot of my outstretched leg; the leg that had just tripped Ruma Camoran. I flipped up the flap of leather than had hidden the dagger, from view and from memory, and unsheathed it, gripping the handle and winding my fingers around the hilt, as I had been taught to do by the dagger's owner.

My attention returned entirely to Camoran as he brought his staff down, and a burst of white sparks coalesced out of the tip and tore across the few steps between us.

I wasn't able to move in time, but it didn't matter; the Ward, or whatever the Amulet had cast around me, blocked the spell, as the lighting struck the barrier with a loud _crack_.

" _You are protected, Champion. Bring an end to this,"_ a female voice I didn't recognise spoke softly to me.

The ringing sound in my ears ceased, all at once. The barrier held, however, and the sparks from Camoran's staff exploded and scattered, bouncing off and firing back in several directions at once; including to its caster, striking him square in the chest.

As Camoran twisted and fell under the reflected power of his own spell, I stood and charged for him.

"Idiot girl!" Raven shrieked in fury and stepped between me and his father. "You shall suffer a hundred remakings by my own hand, and I will laugh as you squirm and plead for my sister's attentions instead of mine!" he vowed as he swung his blade in an arc that would have split me in two, only to have it bounce off me when he struck, with a force that sent him flying away from me.

I had felt nothing of the attempted blow, but still ducked instinctively, as I whirled around to see Raven tumble down the steps, along the same path that his sister had taken. I could see Ruma Camoran's body, lying in a heap at the base of the steps, but knew that it would not be long before she rose again. Nothing in Paradise stayed dead for long.

"How are you doing that?" Camoran screamed at me, and I whirled back around to face him, gripping the dagger tighter in my grasp. He was leaning on his knee as he raised his staff again, and he added through clenched teeth, "The Amulet serves _me_ in Gaiar Alata!"

He mustn't have learnt his lesson the first time; he fired again, even though he was still not recovered from his last attack. Lightning flew at me and, once again, hit the golden barrier and immediately reflected back upon him.

A calmness took hold of me as I knelt beside Mankar Camoran and watched as the spell he had cast flitted over his twitching form. I moved my hand out in an arc, as Caroline had trained me to do; positioning the blade over his chest, with just enough pressure to cut through his robes and hover over his heart.

The barrier protecting me oscillated brightly. A warm breeze rippled around me, ruffling my hair and cloak, as tendrils of golden light flew out from the Amulet and held Mankar Camoran down; pinning him in place. His staff fell from his hand as a coiling mass of gold wound itself around his wrist, and then shook the object out of his very grip before it pinned the wrist to the hard, stone landing beside his throne.

Akatosh decided who was worthy of the Amulet, but it also contained the souls of every Emperor and Empress of Tamriel since the time of Alessia. And it seemed that they had not deserted me.

I explained none of this to Camoran. Neither of us had known that his giving me the Amulet would protect me from his plans for me, and perhaps that was why it had worked; he could not pluck such a defence from my mind, if I hadn't known of it myself.

"The Septims have always protected me," I whispered to him, and wasting no more time, since I wasn't exactly certain of how much I would have, I drove the dagger forward, leaning my full weight into the thrust.

He cried out in shock, and pain, gaping at me as his features began to tremble.

"And this blade?" I leaned over Camoran and twisted the knife in his chest. I watched him, my eyes glued to his, as all of his certainty fled, to be replaced by shock.

I gritted my teeth and felt tears stinging the corners of my eyes. "This is the blade of a woman who protected me from when I was a child. Your _lunacy_ took her from me; from the world; and from the life that she deserved to live. Her name was Caroline; and she taught me well."

"Always..." Camoran gasped, as he shuddered and then coughed. There was red on his lips, and I knew that he did not have long; but still, his voice sounded oddly victorious as the coughing stopped, and he spoke. "Always the unorthodox path, little dove."

I let my tears fall, as I withdrew the dagger, and then drove it into Camoran's neck, to stop him from speaking any longer.

"No more words, Mankar Camoran," I cried out as the blood spurted from his throat, covering my hands and spraying across my cheek. "I deliver you your death, now, and the death of this realm; releasing all those who you have trapped here."

Camoran laughed a soundless laugh, unable to make any noise, and more blood spurted from his neck and mouth.

The world began to shake; dust scattered over us as the white stones of the palace rumbled and began to topple. The golden light surrounding me flared brightly again, as enormous bricks fell either side of us.

" _You think you can save him?"_ Camoran's voice was a weak rasp in my mind. I could feel it grappling for something; anything, to wound me with before he fell.

I withdrew Caroline's dagger from his throat, flicking his blood from it as I watched him die. His voice came again, to my mind; a whisper, as I watched the light fade from his eyes.

" _The fate of your beloved Septims was sealed, the moment you asked that ragged priest to follow you."_

Then, as though he had slipped and fallen, his mind fell out of mine.

 _No more words, Mankar Camoran,_ I said to myself this time, and stood, tearing my eyes from his still and bloodied form, to look up to the crumbling world around me. The golden barrier that had protected me began to dissolve; retreating into the blood-red diamond at the Amulet's centre.

I wrapped a bloodied hand around the diamond again, wanting to keep it safe, and closed my eyes.

 _Akatosh I beg you,_ I thought desperately, as the sounds of destruction; the sounds of the very plane of existence being torn to pieces; rent the air. _Take me back to him._

Everything became white, and I drifted.

_Relief floods me, but the feeling is outside of me. I recognise this; it is the pathway between one plane and another. I have travelled such planes many times now, but for the first time that I can remember, Camoran's voice doesn't invade my thoughts._

_Still. There is another presence here, and I am curious; I reach out to it._

" _Hekohteb ayebedtayem iyatayoht yoodtseht, Sarina," the Other speaks, and the voice tears through me first in daedric, and then horrifically names me._

_I withdraw, as I recognise it. It is the rushing voice that I heard while reading from the Mysterium Xarxes; the voice of Mehrunes Dagon._

_The presence reaches out now, and grasps for me with gigantic hands made of fire and fury, but instead of capturing me, the force pushes around and through me._

_I feel myself scatter, and then I am drawn back; reforming, as the deathly voice screams in rage at being denied once more._

And then everything was still, and quiet, and I could breathe again. I was on my knees, and crouched down with my arms wrapped around myself.

I registered a cool, sticky wetness on my hands and face, and opened my eyes, uncurling myself a little.

It was dark, but not for long; a ball of white light appeared in an outstretched palm and lit up the area; then another, and a third. Candlelight spells. I blinked at the brightness, shielding my eyes, as a silhouetted figure hurried forward.

"Sire!" I could hear Jauffre calling out in warning.

"Let me _through_!" I heard Martin calling out in frustration, at the same moment.

I was back, at Cloud Ruler Temple.

Martin's face swam into view as he skidded down onto his knees in front of me, his eyes wide, and I wondered what picture I presented for him to look so afraid. I knew that there was blood, but what else? Had Dagon's interference in the transition done anything to me, as Camoran insisted had happened during my first ascent from Oblivion?

The glow of a restoration spell charged between us at once, and he raised a steady, officious hand to my head, as his other hand, somewhat more shaky, reached for one of mine and closed over my fingers.

"You did it," he choked on his words, his voice filled with both despair and relief at once.

I let out a great, shuddering breath and closed my eyes, holding my head up as his fingertips made contact with my temple; revelling both at his touch, and his comforting spell. I felt the wash of warm healing energy flow from his hands and into me; felt the cuts, bruises and grazes that I had sustained in Paradise closing over.

The fingers that were wound around my hand squeezed gently. "You found a way back."

I nodded, turning his hand in mine and raising it to my chest, to close his fingers around the red diamond resting there as I opened my eyes to look upon him. "It saved me," I told him, shaking my head in wonder; wondering if he could explain what had happened, be it from reading he had done about the Amulet, or his familial connection to the souls who had saved me.

Martin tore his eyes from where our hands were clasped around the great red gem, to mine. There was such uncertainty, and so many questions in those depths. I swallowed and reconsidered what I'd said, resolving to explain properly as his healing spell continued and my strength return.

"I heard your father," I told him, reaching my other hand up, to smooth the look of worry from his brow. "Somehow, he – the Amulet, I mean – connected me to him – them," I corrected.

I shook my head again, this time trying to organise my thoughts in the wake of an even more confusing burst of words. "There was a light," I tried again, squeezing our hands together, around the diamond, "and then Camoran couldn't touch me."

I registered that Jauffre and Baurus, and a number of other Blades, were gathered around to us – some cheering and laughing and hugging one another, and some bowing. I thought I heard Jauffre saying something about making for the Imperial City at once.

Martin was all that I truly saw. His eyes were even wider than they had been when he had first knelt before me, though I couldn't tell if it was out of distress or shock, or perhaps both.

"Then I owe my ancestors everything," he said finally, in a quiet, relieved voice.

I smiled at his words, and leaned forward on my knees, removing the Amulet of Kings from my neck, and placing it over Martin's head, where it belonged.

If there had ever been any doubt of him being a Septim, none could deny him now as the chain settled around his neck; the blood-red stone in the Amulet and golden chain glittering as it reflected the candlelight spells that lit up the Main hall.

He stared down at it, a frown on his face as he considered it for the first time, and I laughed then, throwing my arms around Martin's neck and embracing him with all of my might. He held onto me swiftly; his hands grasping my waist at first, in surprise and to keep us from toppling; and then he laughed as well and slid his arms around me, to hug me back properly.

 _It is done,_ I thought. _It's over._

But it wasn't.


	48. Kindling

"It will take us the better part of a day to reach the Imperial City," Jauffre spoke up, once the celebrations had died down. "We _must_ leave, Sire. Once the Dawn has realised what has happened to their leader, it will make them desperate."

We had started to move through the Main hall in Cloud Ruler Temple when he said this, and I crossed my brows at the Grandmaster's reason for further haste.

Martin aired my very thoughts. "Peace, Jauffre. Without Camoran or his children to guide them, the Mythic Dawn will scatter," he said with easy confidence.

We had not left each other's side since I'd returned from Paradise, and Martin squeezed my hand reassuringly as he looked down and shook his head with a half-smile; a wordless signal confirming that we need not worry.

Jauffre couldn't agree less. "Sire, do not underestimate the audacity of fanatics who have been backed into a corner," the Grandmaster spoke up gravely, with his usual gruff urgency behind his words.

We stepped out of the main building, and the strong and frigid air hit me like a wall. It was night time, and very dark; the buffeting wind making it impossible for the torch sconces that were littered around the temple courtyard to remain lit. The Blades were hurrying about, their paths lit by meagre lanterns or fluttering, bobbing Candlelight spells. Martin and I huddled closer together, and I watched the activity within the walled fortress, blinking slowly; wondering if it was a dream.

"But," Martin laughed in disbelief, as he motioned toward the Blades, who were obediently preparing to leave. "Most of us have not slept in days," he implored. "My loyal friends and guardians, operating on adrenaline, stamina potions and restorative spells. It's not right, Jauffre, to keep pushing them so," his hand squeezed mine again, though Jauffre couldn't have noticed it.

I shook my head a little, duly prompted by him, not realising that I had been staring out at the courtyard, but not really paying attention to much of anything. Martin glanced at me swiftly, and I had the notion that he was after my support on the matter of our departure.

"Yes, think about it, Jauffre," I spoke up automatically, wracking my brains for a reason to remain at Cloud Ruler Temple so that we could all get some well-earned rest, but my thoughts were sluggish and no reason came. I regarded the Grandmaster, and could see from his hard expression and slightly narrowed eyes that there would be no room for negotiation.

I tried anyway. "Would it make much difference to proceedings if we arrived a little later than we could?" I asked him. "The Dawn will not be able to orchestrate a major attack in the space of a few extra hours."

Jauffre sighed enormously and I could see it was taking all of his will not to shout when he replied, curtly, to both of us. "I understand that you are weary. This has been a impossibly difficult war for both of you, but I cannot stress enough; _it is not over yet_. Until we get you to the City, Sire," his focus was back on Martin entirely, "there is still a possibility, however slight you believe it to be, that we may _lose_. It is your duty that you bring an end to this nightmare, _before_ we rest."

"All _right_ ," Martin said hurriedly, almost cutting him off. His eyes flashed in frustration and I realised, as I looked at him properly, that there were dark circles under them. "I am too tired to argue with you," he snapped.

"I will listen to any and all arguments you might have on the matter, once the dragonfires are relit," Jauffre said with patience and obvious relief, and ushered us down the wide stairs that lead to the fortress exit, toward the horses, which were assembled outside of the main gate.

"Yes, but there will hardly be any point then, will there?" Martin muttered. Jauffre chose not to respond.

I said nothing as we neared the horses; unable to think of a way to intervene through the haze of weariness that had taken hold of my senses. And besides, stepping into an argument between Martin and Jauffre didn't feel like the wisest thing to do.

Both Tor and Ebony had been saddled already, and as we approached them I wondered if perhaps they had never been _un_ saddled to begin with. To remember that at this time the previous day, we had been on the battlefield outside of Bruma, was a little ridiculous.

As I moved to mount Ebony, Martin held me back.

"Wait," he said, somewhat urgently, turning me to face him. I stumbled a little at the sudden change in motion, and landed on his chest; not exactly an unwelcome place to be.

He secured the hand that wasn't holding mine around my waist, to steady me, but kept me close. "Ride to the City with me?" he asked quietly, looking determined. "Tor is strong enough to bear both of us," he gave a quick nod in the direction of my mother's horse, then returned his gaze to me.

I gave him a questioning look, as my fingers brushed against the Amulet of Kings. I had been about to say that Tor would tire sooner bearing both of us, but I paused and glanced at the red diamond when I felt it.

 _He's the Emperor,_ I reminded myself, as a flutter of excitement rippled through me. _And he is yours._

A smile wound its way onto my lips and I nodded slightly to him. I had no reason, and no will, to refuse him this simple request. "All right."

He smiled back, and once again I could see tiredness in his features, now that I had noticed it was there. He spoke again, just as quietly as before. "At least the thought of making the journey south, close to you, lends me some strength."

I didn't realise that I had lifted my hand to him, until I was trailing my fingertips across his brow. "Oh, Martin," I whispered. I bit my bottom lip out of concern for him, wondering suddenly if we _should_ delay our journey, after all. It would do none of us any good if we arrived at the Imperial City exhausted. Martin would only have one chance to make a good first impression on those he would need to impress, from this day, forward. "When did _you_ last sleep?" I asked him in a hush.

He huffed a genuine laugh and leaned in, pressing his forehead to mine and closing his eyes. "With you," he whispered intimately, his breath fluttering warmly over my lips. "And I will not sleep again, unless you are in my arms," he vowed.

Be it from the weighty exhaustion I felt, the thrill of his unashamed affection in front of the Blades, or the blush that crept up my cheeks at the reminder of the last time that either of us had slept, I couldn't help but laugh warmly in response.

"Sire, this is all very captivating," Jauffre interrupted pointedly, "but it brings us no closer to the Temple of the One, and I really must insist that we delay no longer-"

Martin went from calm to exasperated, very suddenly, as he straightened, turned to the Grandmaster and barked, "Yes, Jauffre, I know! We are leaving."

Jauffre didn't say much more, but lingered until Martin had mounted up on Tor, then left us, leading Ebony so he could redistribute her to one of the other Blades. A Blade I didn't know approached us then; passed Martin a backpack, which he said contained some food for later, and then passed me a longbow from his shoulder.

I stared at it curiously as I held it out in front of me. We weren't riding into battle.

"By orders of the Grandmaster. Take it, My Lady - just in case," the Blade said with a respectful nod; then departed.

I shrugged, then passed the new bow, my quiver, and Caroline's backpack, up to Martin. He secured them to the back of Tor's saddle with his things.

"I am sorry," he sighed to me, though I could hear the frustration he had expressed to Jauffre in his tone still. He offered me his hand, to help me mount up.

"Why are you sorry?" I asked, as I steadied my foot in the stirrup and, with Martin's help, turned and lifted myself up onto the enormous horse.

The saddle was not overly large, but we both fit in it, and Tor shuffled a little as he adjusted to our combined weights.

I made soft sounds to Tor, as I had been taught to do to calm any horse, as I settled myself in front of Martin. He reached an arm around me to take the reigns, blocking the biting wind that was buffeting against us as his cloak fell around us both.

Warmth flooded me, and not resulting entirely from him creating a windbreak. I turned back, to regard him, my cheeks feeling very hot, very suddenly. My breath caught in my throat as I caught the devotion in his eyes, as the hand not holding onto Tor's reigns drifted around my hip, before rising to rest on my abdomen.

"I am sorry," he repeated softly, "that I must ask you to keep going, after everything that you have endured. Perhaps," he posed, raising his eyes to the activity in front of us, as he secured me closer to him with a gentle press of his hand, "if the ride is not too difficult, you might be able to sleep in the saddle."

I turned around to face forward again, and leaned back against him. "That would not be fair on either of us," I told him soberly, as I found his hand on the reigns and closed my fingers around it. "You would then need to balance for both of us, and I would miss this last opportunity to have you all to myself, before the Empire demands your attentions," I teased lightly.

Jauffre made the final call for the Blades to mount up, and everyone began to move around us.

The activity may as well have been miles from us; we were both too weary, and absorbed in each other, to notice much of it. Martin chuckled and rested his forehead against the back of my head, placing a small kiss to the back of my neck. "Whatever the Empire's demands," he hushed, "we will find some way to make time for us."

I smiled, as I lifted my other hand to Tor's reigns to urge the horse onwards, and our company began to move. "Even so," I smiled, turning my head so that he would hear me, though I wasn't able to turn far enough to see his face now that we were moving. "I would rather stay awake with you."

Martin's response was to tighten his hand and arm around me. While I was sure that we could have continued to talk sweet nothings to each other for some time, we quietened as a retinue of Blades formed a wall around us, riding closer than I had expected them to, since we had to make our way through the forest to begin with.

One we joined the road, Jauffre commanded that we increase to a run. For a time, the only sounds were the beating of hooves along gravel, and the jangle and clink of armour that the Blades and Martin wore. I was still dressed in the fur and leather armour and blue cloak that I had travelled through Paradise in, but neither made a sound as Tor moved.

Martin was still in his Imperial Dragon armour, that he'd worn during the battle outside of Bruma, underneath a dark purple, fur-lined cloak, which was beautifully edged in gold and red embroidery and gathered with a pin at his shoulder that resembled a token to Akatosh. I had recognised the garment, when it had been brought to him the previous day as we'd prepared to leave Bruma. It was modelled on robes that his father had owned, which the Emperor had conducted official business in. I supposed someone had arranged for it to be commissioned while they had been in Bruma, to give weight to Martin's claim.

Not as though he needed any proof of his legitimacy, with the Amulet of Kings hung around his neck, visible to all, and his striking similarity to his brother.

Dawn arrived through a haze of pink and orange lined clouds that, for a moment, remained dark and purpled in their centres, before the sun rose high enough to make them white. Given our pace, the Blades had spread out around us, but they were still close enough that Martin would not be an easy target, should anyone be lurking in the bushes or trees, hoping to take a shot at him.

 _Is anyone out there,_ I wondered blearily, casting my eyes to a clump of trees as we passed by them. Jauffre seemed to think so, but I was not so certain. The Dawn cultists I had encountered in Paradise had seemed less fanatical and in some cases, remorseful of the decisions they had made that had lead them there. With Camoran now disposed of, would it be long before the remainder of the Dawn realised that they had chosen the wrong path?

Martin's arm tightened around me again, and I felt warmth emanating from his hand. Looking down in dim wonderment, I noticed the glow of a restoration spell, but unable to turn to question him on why he was healing me, I could only squeeze his other hand, holding onto the reigns with me, to thank him for his gift.

Of course, he knew exactly what he was doing. I felt my fatigue draining away, and my alertness somewhat return.

My mind returned to the Mythic Dawn, feeling less hazy. If there _were_ any Mythic Dawn skulking in the trees, they would not only be as tired as we were, but defeated and hopeless.

 _Would_ the new state of affairs make them desperate, as Jauffre had posed? Perhaps. But without Camoran to foster communication between whatever remained of his cult, we would be in the City and have the dragonfires relit before they could gather, let alone form an attack.

" _What of Dagon?"_ my mother's voice interrupted my confident musings, and I closed my eyes, trying not to curse. I had not been berated by my thoughts in her scathing tones for a while, and had been starting to wonder if I was finally ridding myself of her ghost in my thoughts completely. _"If Camoran could communicate with the Dawn from Paradise, there is no reason Mehrunes Dagon could not from Oblivion."_

I sighed as I made myself ponder this possibility. Mehrunes Dagon still wanted to walk on Tamriel again; to reclaim what he considered his birthright, as Camoran had put it. Dagon had only seemed to have dealt with Mankar Camoran, in the past, and Camoran had passed Dagon's will, as he interpreted it, onto his people. Would – _could_ – Dagon reach out to another cultist; one who could assemble the remainder of the Dawn more swiftly? Or, would someone in the Mythic Dawn reach out to him first, to ask for guidance in the wake of Mankar Camoran's defeat? Yes, either scenario was possible.

 _Anything is possible_ , I reminded myself, but I found that I could not entertain this notion for long. Mankar Camoran had been our major threat and adversary, all this time, with Dagon a shadow; a warning, almost, of what would come if we didn't stop Camoran's from completing his plans. Simply not enough time had passed, between Bruma being saved, Camoran being killed, and the Amulet being regained, for the Dawn to reassemble themselves.

While our party had stopped mid-morning, to water the horses and refresh ourselves, we had not stopped for long, and had bypassed Bruma at around noon. We slowed our horses as we did, and a few Blades went to the gates, to tell the Bruma guards why we weren't stopping. Somebody distributed more food parcels, which we didn't even stop to eat, and I was reminded of the time that Baurus and I had made the reverse journey, almost; from Lake Arrius, to Cloud Ruler Temple. We had eaten in the saddle that day, too.

The thought sent my mind spinning with memories of the cavern at Lake Arrius, and how I had nearly been sacrificed then. If Camoran had truly believed that it was my destiny to keep Paradise operating in his stead, what would have actually happened, had Baurus and the others not rescued me? Would I have been killed, to awaken in Paradise, unable to leave? Or _remade_ , as he called it, on the bloody altar that I had hidden behind to fire arrows from when we had attacked? Or, would I have simply been taken into Paradise with him, so he could deliver the reshaping of my will to his requirements once there?

I ate a small portion of the bread in the parcel I'd been handed but didn't really taste it. Between the battle, Great gate, and Paradise, I had barely eaten, but felt ill at the prospect of food.

And _this_ reminded me of Jauffre's suspicion when we had left Bruma; that I might, at this moment, be bearing the heir to the Empire. Even at this early stage, carrying a child might be adding to, or entirely responsible for, my nausea.

I rolled my eyes at myself, as soon as the thought entered my head. It was so far-fetched, and even Jauffre had not meant it when he had said it. He had only been trying to control me, by saying such a thing.

 _Hasn't this always been what your duty to the Septims would boil down to,_ I questioned myself? _If you aren't carrying Martin's child now, you will be expected to do so soon enough. It is probably time to start considering the notion as entirely plausible, for it will be reality for you, someday._

The thought made my heart race, though I couldn't pinpoint whether it was because I was excited or afraid, as the memory of Mankar Camoran's taunt in Paradise, as he'd placed the Amulet of Kings around _my_ neck, came back to me.

" _Yours is a path that soars, higher than that of breeding sow to the Septim pigs."_

I shook the memory away with a shudder, telling myself that, regardless of all else, we needed to get to the Imperial City and relight the dragonfires, before I could allow myself to consider what the future held for Martin and I.

"Are you all right?" Martin leaned down close to my ear. "Are you cold?"

He must have felt my shudder. I turned slightly back to him and shook my head, swallowing my mouthful of bread. "It's nothing," I told him. "Just nerves, about being back in the Imperial City after all this time," I made up a reason; unable to talk about much of what had happened in Paradise, just yet; even with him.

I felt Martin's nod, as he rested his chin on my shoulder. "I haven't been there in a long time," he told me calmly. "I barely remember anything of it."

I smiled a little, as I let myself be eased by the pleasure of his closeness. "Have you ever visited the White-Gold Tower?" I asked, wondering if perhaps, once, we might have crossed paths and never known it.

I felt him shake his head, and then after a pause, he added in a strangely dismissive, hesitant voice, "I was visiting the Arcane University, with some friends. We didn't stay for long."

Curiosity piqued within me, but there was no mistaking the tone of his reply; as though he regretted even mentioning it.

I leaned my head sideways, to rest against his, and sighed, watching the horses and Blades ahead of us, who were still eating their lunches. I started talking again, simply to show Martin that I wasn't going to try and draw his past out of him.

"I was never allowed near the Arcane University," I told him idly. "I asked Ebel once, if he could gain special permission for me to go, even though I wasn't a member of the Mage's guild, so I could visit their library. Nothing had come of it," I shrugged. "But I could see it, from the Tower. You can see everything from the Tower," I added in afterthought.

Martin was still oddly silent, though I no longer felt the regretful restraint in him. I left him to his thoughts, and made myself eat another mouthful of food, while we could still eat. Jauffre would call for us to pick up the pace again soon, and then eating, and talking, would become impossible.

His hand held me a little tighter for a moment, and then he asked, "What were my brothers like?"

 _Oh._ That explained the silence.

I swallowed, trying to think of how best to answer him without needing to dredge up painful reminders of people and times long past; of lives that had been cut short so cruelly. They didn't deserve to have their memories buried, but the swift and terrible nature of Ebel's death made me as hesitant to talk of him as I was of speaking about Caroline. I had not loved Ebel, in the way that I had loved Caroline, but I had respected him, despite his treating me like a child throughout our acquaintance.

 _You were a child_ , I reminded myself.

Behind me, Martin shuffled slightly. "It's all right," he said calmly. "I wasn't thinking; my mind is a mess of nerves, and fatigue. You don't have to talk about them."

"No, it's fine – I mean, I'm fine," I said in a hush. I had witnessed such atrocities since their murders, that a part of me insisted that I was only hesitant to talk of the other Septims because it had become a habit not to. I shook my head, chastising myself and my endless musings. If nothing else, talking of Martin's half-brothers, which until now I hadn't really thought of them as, would help to pass the time.

I cast my mind to my previous life. "Geldall was the eldest," I began. "He must have been about fifty when I was brought to the Tower, and I remember being too scared to look him in the eye when I arrived," I shook my head, remembering that first day, so long ago. "He was very tall, and always seemed too busy with the Legion, or his father, to pay any attention to me. I hadn't realised that he had been the one to suggest to my mother that I become betrothed to Ebel," I rambled a little, letting my mind take the conversation where it would.

Martin seemed to be listening, and I wished I could see his expression. When I hesitated, he commented lightly, "I remember two of the priests in Kvatch gossiping about them once," he told me.

I couldn't help but feel amused by this; Martin, overhearing tales about members of his own family. "Yes, apparently we were _all_ the favoured subjects of gossip. You were lucky to avoid becoming part of it, for as long as you did, and I daresay that none of what they said was true."

"Oh, it was nothing unpleasant," he replied with more alacrity than before. "Merely that they wondered why, out of the three important, exceedingly eligible men, whose duties would include continuing their line, only one had attached themselves; and to one so young, at that," he rested his head on my shoulder again, and I felt as though he was teasing me.

I turned my head away and let out a puff of ironic laughter. "Ebel and I were never _attached_ to one another," I muttered.

"Then he was a fool," Martin nudged my ear with his nose. "But, I am glad," he said quietly, in a possessive tone that I'd never heard him use before, which sent a ripple of pleasure through me. I closed my eyes at the sensation, and the feel of his breath, then his lips, on my neck.

As though Jauffre had timed his command to be issued the moment any affection occurred between us, the call to put away our lunches and ride on at speed sounded.

Martin let out an audible groan as he raised his head, and I felt another laugh bubble out of me at the Grandmaster's timing. I grasped hold of Tor's reigns with both of my hands again.

Within moments, the convoy had sped up, and the beat of horses hooves on the road made conversation impossible once more.

The day pushed on, and so did we. The White-Gold Tower had been visible for some time now, but it was simply its immense height that made it possible. The Tower was hazy, and extremely pale against the blue sky, and would remain that way for some time still.

I felt calm, and contented, despite Jauffre's insistence that it was not yet safe to be confident. My spirits had been renewed by my ambling conversation with Martin, and my weariness dulled by Martin's healing spells. There was something very pleasing about being able to talk with him about something that wasn't directly related to our quests. We had been thrown together, so swiftly, when I thought about it; had known each other for a matter of months, and been separated for most of that time. I felt as though I had known him for much longer than that, of course, but I had to admit to myself that it would be nice to spend time with him; to learn about him and his life before we had met; after our work was complete.

Hours passed, uneventfully. The command to slow came when we reached the junction where the Silver and Red Ring roads met, and we turned westward for a time, to follow the road that looped around the City. The Blades closed ranks around Martin and I once more. As we neared the bridge over the Rumare and approached the main gates, a small burst of nerves released within me, and I felt Martin tense, too.

Prompted by his hand, which somewhat clenched at my armour now, I endeavoured to ease his mind, and turned my head slightly to talk to him about what we could expect, and what we should do, now that we were here.

"Tradition dictates that you not present yourself to the Elder Council as candidate to the throne," I told him. "However there can be no dispute of your right to it," I added hurriedly, remembering how Ocato had seemed overwhelmed by the responsibilities, while I had been in the Imperial City asking for a portion of the Legion to be brought back to Cyrodiil. I scowled a little as I remembered his outright refusal, but reminded myself that it hadn't mattered in the end; we had saved Bruma, without the Legion at our backs. It had been a victory for Cyrodiil, and brought Martin the loyalty of the people he must now serve.

"Can I not relight the dragonfires without the Elder Council's blessing?" Martin asked. It was in such a way that I felt he was asking only to fill the silence with words of distraction; with a strain that told me he was far more anxious than I had thought him to be.

 _He knows nothing of this world,_ I reminded myself quickly. _Of course he is nervous._

I nodded. "Yes, of course you can. That is a matter of blood, not bureaucracy, and perhaps that is exactly what we should do," I considered. The Elder Council would not appreciate that Martin had declared himself Emperor by going directly to the Temple of the One, rather than the Elder Council Chambers first, but, as Jauffre had reminded us again and again since I'd returned from Paradise, the priority was to stop the Oblivion gates from opening, and cut Mehrunes Dagon off from Tamriel. A coronation, or any debate that there might be about Martin's right to rule, had to wait. Going to the White-Gold Tower first _would_ be a waste of precious time.

We crossed the bridge then; the Blades thinning out a little so we could. As we neared the main gates to the Imperial City, I noticed the crowd gathered to meet us.

"What's this?" Martin asked in a lowered tone.

Recognising the armour of a few, and the face of one, I shook my head dismissively. "It is only some of the Imperial Legion, and Ocato, the High Chancellor" I told him. "They have come to meet you," I smiled, then added in a hushed voice. "Don't worry about Ocato, by the way. He is pompous, but not unkind, and he will be relieved that you are here to solve all of his problems. Let me speak to him first," I continued; "as a member of the aristocracy, I can formally present your claim to him, and then we will be done with _that_ part of the process, at least. None will care that we make directly for the Tempe of the One, after that."

I felt Martin's nod again, and as we neared the gates that would lead into the City, I let my eyes roam over those who had gathered to greet their new Emperor. There were scant few members of the Imperial Legion; their armour shining brightly in the sun that was about to set; a scattering of townsfolk, their faces curious, all eager to catch the first glimpse of Martin; a few farmers, who appeared to have been stopped from entering the City so that we might pass uninhibited. Ocato stood nearest; his hair slicked back with too much oil, as usual, and his long, red robes of office hanging off him like a sack. He had lost weight, I thought; the high, angled cheekbones jutting out more than I recalled from my last visit. There were dark circles under his eyes, too.

"Let us through," I asked the Blades, as our party came to a halt before the gathered crowd.

They urged their horses aside, so that we could guide Tor to the front of the group, which took us off the bridge and onto the landing before the main gate into the Imperial City. Jauffre was suddenly next to us, still on his own horse; his mouth set in a grimace. I saw him exchange a nod with Ocato as we came to a stop in front of the High Chancellor.

Doubtless Jauffre wished us to forego any ceremony and make directly for the Temple, and was here to ensure that we not become bogged down in formal greetings and discussion. But I had to admit that, while I had seen no reason for such haste before, I was now also eager to have the last, pivotal task of the entire lengthy and taxing ordeal over with, now that we were here.

"Lady Passero," Ocato greeted me, bowing slightly. When he rose again, I did not miss how his eyes glanced immediately away from me; not to Martin, but to the Amulet of Kings. "Word has reached the City of your success in Bruma. I was relieved to hear that you not only survived, but triumphed."

"High Chancellor Ocato," I nodded a greeting in response, dismissing the battle for Bruma and his small talk. "Thank you for meeting us," I turned in the saddle then, as far as I was able to, to indicate Martin, and smiled. "May I present Martin Septim, son of the late Emperor Uriel Septim the seventh, and heir to the Empire?"

"Your Majesty," Ocato bowed lower to Martin, as was required. "You are your father's image."

Martin's voice rumbled out of him from behind me; calm and pleasant. "It is good to finally meet you, High Chancellor. I look forward to working with you over the coming years."

Pride for Martin swept through me, as bright and golden as the setting sun.

Ocato was evidently satisfied with this response, too, for he rose, and lifted his hand to Martin, a cordial smile in place. "The Council has already considered the matter of your claim to the throne in detail, and accepted it. We should arrange the coronation-"

_BOOM._

With a shudder, the bridge over the Rumare, that most of the Blades were still queued on, shook and groaned under the force of an explosion from underneath its mid section.

"What was that?!" Ocato shrieked, whipping his hand back to his chest in alarm.

I gripped Tor's reigns as the horse skittered forward along the cobbles. Martin's arms flew around my waist, to keep from falling, and the crowd around the gates cried out in shock.

"Hold!" Jauffre unsheathed his sword, taking immediate charge. "Protect the Emperor!"

 _What's happening?_ I wondered frantically, as an enormous _CRACK_ rent the air, originating from the bridge. I startled as a large cloud of smoke, or dust, rose over the heads of the Blades that were still trapped on it. They hurriedly moved to shift their horses, which were on the verge of panicking, toward solid ground. Some had no choice but to turn and speed their horses back across the bridge and away from the City, while they still could.

The crowd cried out in horror again as another explosion came, and dust and smoke flew into the air in front of us. The sound of rocks cracking against one another and tumbling into water could be heard, and was punctuated by the sound of desperate horses and screaming men and women, who had not made it off the bridge in time, and fallen.

The skies then immediately darkened with unnatural clouds directly overhead of us, and began to angrily churn and swirl.

Unable to believe what I was seeing, I turned my eyes up to the clouds, as the edges of the broiling mass turned crimson.

"No," I whispered. The Dawn would not be stupid enough to open an Oblivion gate on top of the Imperial City!

"Sire, we must _go_!" Jauffre called out furiously; a clear voice amidst the unfolding chaos.

Martin grabbed for the reigns that I was still holding, which spurred me into action. I tugged on Tor's reigns sharply, to turn us away from the sights and sounds of destruction, and the horse needed little urging to sprint toward the gates that lead into the City.

Jauffre was right beside us. "Open the gates!" he yelled out desperately. "Let us through!"

Suddenly, several of the onlookers who I had thought were farmers leaped forward, casting off cloaks of earthen tones to reveal the blood-red ones worn by the Mythic Dawn. They fired spells and shot arrows, and a few who were wielding swords let out cries full of hate and dogma as they leaped upon the unarmed townsfolk they were nearest to, and attacked.

"For Lord Dagon!" I heard one of them cry out frantically as they sliced through the arm and torso of a horror-struck townswoman.

A golden Ward appeared about us, and I glanced to my right, to see that Jauffre had cast it, just as the _chink-chink_ of arrow fire glancing off the shield spell rang out.

I set my jaw as I stared forward, at the opening gates. Fury and panic both took hold of me. We raced through the opening, and Jauffre's spell stopped, as suddenly as it had appeared.

"Jauffre!" Martin cried out behind me, as he wrenched the reigns out of my hand, to turn Tor back around. I grabbed onto the horse's neck to keep from falling off.

Cries of alarm and screams of terror were filling the City, echoing off the high inner walls and terraced houses, and a quick look at the sky confirmed that there were more clusters of black clouds forming, edged in red; so many that the sky over the City was almost completely obscured by them.

I spotted the Grandmaster, outside of the gates still, with an arrow protruding from his hand; the hand he had been casting the Ward spell from. He was wincing, but waved his sword-arm at us, when he saw that we'd stopped. A mass of people trying to flee the City were grouped in front of him, blocking his path to us, as those on the landing outside of the gates being attacked tried to escape back _in_.

"Go!" he ordered, through clenched teeth. "Sarina; you defend him with your _life_!" he commanded me.

Martin started to say something but I needed no further prompting than the sight of the skies to know that we needed to hurry. I grabbed Martin's hands, which were still holding Tor's reigns; gripped, and pulled; whirling the horse around again, then kicked my heels into his flank, directing him to turn right through the Talos Plaza district.

The apartments either side of us shuddered as the road in front of us collapsed, and dark, heavy grey stones began to climb up out of the earth.

I cursed as I saw what was about to erupt and tugged back on Tor's reigns, to stop him falling into the gate and taking us with him. The enormous horse reared and cried out in enraged protest, and Martin and I could only cling onto him, until he settled back onto the cobbles. This was _madness_.

"Off the horse!" I called out, leaping down as soon as Tor's hooves were on the road again, then reached up to grab the longbow I'd been handed at Cloud Ruler Temple, and my quiver, as Martin dismounted after me. While I shouldered the quiver I saw him crouch from the corner of my eye, and raise his hand. I startled as a burst of sparks erupted from him, and whirled around to see a figure in a red cloak, who'd been closer than I'd realised, topple to the ground.

Unable to suppress a shudder, I gave Tor a whack to his flank and told the horse to run, as the Oblivion gate formed in front of us, and claws of fire erupted out of and anchored onto the frame of stones.

We did not linger.

"This way!" I called to Martin, over the sound of the plane of Oblivion tearing its way into our reality. The unnatural, hot wind which made the fire in the gateway flicker uncontrollably and the clouds overheard roll wildly caught my words, but Martin nodded that he understood, and we ran.

I drew an arrow as my heart beat erratically in my chest and I felt the surge of adrenaline pump through my veins. There was no time to question how this had happened, or to berate ourselves for insisting that we delay our arrival in the City so we could _sleep_.

_This is not your fault._

I repeated the words to myself, over and over again, trying to make myself believe them. The world rumbled and shook around us constantly, scattering roof tiles and shattering windows, as more Oblivion gates ascended along the road that we were running on.

A scamp launched itself out of a newly-formed gate in front of us and I fired my readied arrow, felling it immediately. While I drew another arrow, a second scamp flew toward us, and Martin threw a ball of sparks at it, turning the creature to ash before it had landed in our world.

I nocked my arrow, as Martin grabbed my wrist and tugged me toward the side of the road. Our backs slammed into a high stone wall as another gateway to Oblivion burst up in the spot where we had just been.

Breathing heavily as I looked up at the forming gate, I shook my head and uttered, "Why is this happening?"

"Jauffre was right," Martin replied immediately, through clenched teeth. I glanced to him quickly; he was glaring up at the same gate, as it created itself in front of us. "The Dawn grew _desperate_ ," he spat, "and are trying to give Dagon the hold he needs over Tamriel to rise."

The flames of the fresh Oblivion gate reflected in Martin's eyes as it lashed out and anchored itself onto the stone arch.

"Come on," I urged him to continue along the road, or, what was left of it. We had to keep going.

Martin nodded, his eyes still on the gate, but then turned suddenly to me; the fire still bright in his determined gaze. "Lead the way."

We ran and fired arrows and spells, fighting for our lives and making ourselves ignore the screams and begs of the people trapped in the City, who were being set upon by daedra and Mythic Dawn cultists.

_Light the dragonfires._

I winced as I ran past a man being impaled by one of the spiderish daedra that I had only ever seen in Paradise before, and visions of torture meted out in the flooded cave network that I had been dragged through by the Dremora flashed before my eyes.

_If we don't end this, that will be Tamriel's fate._

Sparks tore past me as Martin fired a spell at a nearby Dremora, and then we jumped out of the way of a cascade of falling roof tiles as we neared the gate that lead to the Temple district.

The gate was _locked_.

"Use your flames to open the gate," I commanded Martin, turning around as I pressed my back against the wall next to it. "I will cover you."

I scanned the area for anyone interested us, as Martin hurriedly cast a spell of fire at the lock and handle.

There were screams, both human and daedric, coming from the other side of the gate, but I pushed down the fear that was rising in knowing we were about to run _into_ it, while I breathed deeply and raised my bow. _One district at a time._

"Down!" I screamed to him, as I spotted a red-robed archer loosing his arrow. Martin ducked in time; the arrow lodged itself in the gate he was labouring to open. I fired as soon as the words had left my mouth; the archer was flung back by the impact of my arrow, and didn't rise again.

"It's done!" Martin yelled over the sounds of destruction from every direction; the crackle of flame, and the terrible, ear-piercing screams. "Let's go!"

I lowered my bow and grabbed his wrist with my free hand as we launched ourselves into the archway between the scorched remains of the wooden doorway. We were immediately knocked backwards and almost trampled by a surge of people, fleeing from the Temple district into the Talos Plaza. The sounds of their screams was deafening. Martin and I flattened ourselves against the wall, clinging to one another as the panicking people flooded past us, crying out with pleas for the Divines to save them, and sobbing that the End of Days was upon us.

Before long, the crack of toppling rock and the rumble of the shuddering earth began to overpower the fearful cries of the frantic Imperial City citizens. Martin and I were able to push ourselves through the remains of the crowd, and into the Temple district.

"The Temple of the One is not far," I called out to Martin, pointing along the road that would lead us there. I turned back to him to confirm he now knew our destination, in case we were separated.

But Martin had stopped, dead in his tracks; his eyes turned upward and his mouth curled into a horrified gape.

"We're too late."

My heart plummeted. He had spoken softly but I had still managed to hear him over everything else. I turned to look where he was looking, as dread filled me.

I startled backwards, raising my arms and backing into Martin, and my eyes widened in terror. It had not been the Oblivion gates opening and daedra spewing out of them making those in the Temple district nearly trample us as they had fled.

It was Mehrunes Dagon. Who else could this horrible, red-skinned titan be? He was a head taller than the tallest building in the district, with enormously broad shoulders from which sprung four arms; one of which was bearing a giant axe, which he was in the process of lowering into a mass of Imperial Legion guards attacking his feet. The Daedric Prince's skin swirled as though it was made of liquid fire, and the dark clouds lined with red churned and glowed above him. The axe landed, sending Legion guards flying.

He was standing outside of the Temple of the One; waiting for us. The barriers protecting Nirn from Oblivion had fallen; Dagon was among us, and the Dawn had won.

Martin grabbed hold of me as I crashed back into him, and we both attempted to steady one another.

My lip was trembling out of fear and my eyes were glued to Dagon's form as I managed to gibber, though it came out in a whisper; "Can we fight him?"

Martin's hold on me tightened and I felt him shake his head. "No power in Tamriel can destroy him," he shuddered. "Not even relighting the dragonfires will help us now."

As though summoned by Martin's voice, Dagon turned at that moment. I was transfixed, as the horned, pointy-eared red head swivelled and the hate-filled golden eyes zeroed in and fixed on us. A wide, malicious grin broke out on Dagon's face, filled with sharp teeth, and the Daedric Prince raised his head to the blackened skies above him, and laughed.

It was a low, booming sound that shook the earth worse than any forming Oblivion gate ever had. The sound tore through me like a physical blow, as what was left of my hope cried within me; _there must be a way!_

The sound propelled Martin and I into action, and we ran down a side road to escape the beast's gaze, and whatever wrath was to follow, for as long as we could.

The laughter ceased, and the sound of enormous feet, crashing down as they approached along the main Temple district road, replaced it.

I leaped sideways, bursting into a house with an open doorway, hauling Martin in after me. Frantically, I turned back to the door and slammed it shut, and then faced Martin again with wide eyes, as my heart thumped erratically.

His eyes were filled with remorse, but before he could speak, I held up my hand.

"Don't," I told him swiftly, feeling my frustration, and desperation, flow through me, making my words harsher than I had intended. "Don't you dare tell me that the Divines have abandoned us, Martin Septim. While our hearts beat; while we are able to breathe air; there is still hope."

Martin clenched his jaw, and I saw the guilt and sadness in his eyes quickly change with a flash of challenge. When he spoke, his voice shook with restraint. "I will not spend our final moments together arguing."

"No - stop it," I told him again - "these are not our final moments! There _must_ be a way, we just need time to _think_ -" I said in a rush. I took a steadying breath, as the walls of the house shook and plaster fell from the ceiling and coated Martin and I in a fine dusting of white powder.

Outside, a deafening daedric curse tore through the air, as Mehrunes Dagon continued to search for us. Before I realised what I had done, I found myself clinging to Martin, and he was clinging to me.

Any anger I had felt fled and was replaced with acute fear as we held one another and faced the doorway, both too afraid to move. Several more clouds of plaster dust shook down from the ceiling in bursts, and Dagon's enormous feet were visible for a moment, in a window, as he thudded past our hiding spot.

Tearing my eyes from the window, certain that the feet would reappear at any moment, I looked up to Martin, too afraid to burst into tears that I felt were on the brink of escaping, in case the noise immediately attracted Dagon back.

"Please," I begged him quietly, my heart twisting painfully as I saw him swallow back his own tears, brimming in his eyes. "It cannot end like this. We will find a way."

He shook his head in despair. I had never seen him cry, and I found the sight of those usually lively, confident depths filled with such hopelessness more frightening and painful than anything else I had endured.

"I don't want to die," he choked. "I don't want _you_ , or anyone else to die."

"We won't," I told him, with a swallow, and a few tears fell from the corners of my eyes. The building shook again, but less vigorously than before. Dagon was still searching for us, but had moved further away from the house we were in.

"They won't kill us, Martin," my voice quavered and cracked. "If we are to lose this fight, I don't fear death. Not after everything I've seen," I tried to take a steadying breath, as Martin's hands gripped onto me a little more tightly. I exhaled, turning my eyes down, staring at our feet, for if I kept staring into Martin's terrified eyes I would be lost. "I fear living in a Tamriel remade by Dagon and the Mythic Dawn," I finished.

By way of answering he hurriedly drew me close. I pressed myself to his chest, and my cheek settled against the cool smoothness of the Amulet of Kings.

" _You are protected, Champion. Bring an end to this."_

The voice was a memory, but it sent a surge of realisation through me and I gasped as I drew back from Martin's tight embrace.

"What is it?" he asked quickly, his voice still thick with emotion.

I stared at the stone, detangling from him to grasp it in both of my hands.

"The Amulet protected me in Paradise," I reminded him fretfully. "I could never have overcome Camoran without it," I turned my eyes back up to him, but faltered when I saw his wide-eyed look of realisation; of _acceptance_.

I couldn't say it – couldn't suggest that we test the theory with _his_ life; that he take on Mehrunes Dagon in combat in the hope that his ancestors – or Akatosh – or whatever it had been that had protected me, would do the same for him.

But I didn't need to say the words; the look in Martin's eyes told me that he understood. He nodded and moved toward the door before I could say another word.

"No – no _wait_ ," I said in a rush.

He put his hand on the door handle and turned back to me swiftly, his eyes still bright with tears, but they seemed to be more out of determination, than despair, now.

"I have an idea. Get me to the Temple of the One."

He spoke with such burning command that I could only nod in response as fear gripped my heart and flipped in my chest.

Martin reached his other hand out to me; offering for me to take it. "Trust me," he whispered.

 _I have always trusted you,_ I thought, as I nodded and took his hand. I couldn't deny that a small, kindling fire of hope lit within me at his reaction, which eased the engulfing anxiety, ever so slightly.

He opened the door, and we were running again, in the opposite direction to the one we had just seen Dagon moving in. Hoards of daedra fought Imperial Legion and I thought that I recognised men and women fighting in Blades armour as well, as I ran, bow in hand and arrow nocked, leading Martin back down the side-street.

I didn't hesitate as I ran onto the main road, dropping Martin's hand to fire my readied arrow at a nearby advancing Dremora, and then continued, not waiting to see if the shot had felled it. It had been enough to make it stagger, which was enough to allow us to pass.

Not even a minute passed, and the Temple of the One loomed in front of us; its beautifully segmented white domed roof made bloody in the leeching red light of the clouds above us and the fires of the Oblivion gates around us. To our far left, near the gate that separated the Temple district from Green Emperor Way, I could see Dagon towering above everything except the White-Gold Tower beyond him; his back to us as he brought his axe down upon something we couldn't see, at his feet.

I grabbed Martin's hand again, and set my sights on the entrance to the Temple of the One. We ran, never looking back; never stopping to check if the rumbling that shook me to my core was the Daedric Prince of Destruction, making his approach to bring an end to all.

I pushed open the door as I careened through into the usually serene temple; its walls straining and shuddering under the near constant rumbling from outside. I pressed my back to one of the walls, my eyes immediately travelling to the circular alter, where the dragonfires were usually lit and burning brightly. It was cold, and empty, and relighting it now would do us no good. While I had known, for what felt like an age, that they were extinguished, it still gave me pause to see – to confirm – that they were gone.

Martin halted next to me, his hand still locked in mine, his back also pressed to the inside wall of the temple. He was glancing around; up at the ceiling; across the walls; down to the floors; his eyes flickering from stone to stone, as he seemed to take the Temple devoted to Akatosh in for the first time, with a calculating frown on his face.

"What do we do now?" I prompted him, as the rumbling gathered into the unmistakable beat of enormous, approaching footfalls.

His assessment of the temple complete, Martin turned to me, his eyes wide and full of resolve.

Then without warning, he swept his arm around my waist and drew me up, ducking down to kiss me with all the rash, desperate urgency that he had apologised for only days before.

Fear for what was to come gripped me as I clung to him, insisting to myself that this was _not_ good-bye, despite what it felt like. We were _not_ about to be captured by Dagon, or crushed to death as the Temple toppled around us. Martin had a plan, or he would not have come here.

 _Please, work_ , I willed the Amulet hanging around Martin's neck as I grasped hold of him and put my heart and soul into our kiss. _Protect him - your descendant, as you protected me!_

We broke apart as a tearing, cracking sound overtook all others, and the dim, reddish lighting that had overcome the Imperial City under siege filtered into the temple. I glanced up, gasping for breath. My heart shuddered as I saw the face of Mehrunes Dagon, glaring down at us; the domed roof of the Temple of the One torn off, still in one of his hands.

Martin's hand was on my face then. His fingertips trailed a path down my cheek, tentative and gentle, as though Dagon was not above us at all.

"Thank you, Sarina. For everything."

I tore my gaze from the titan looming over us to meet his, as he detangled his other hand from mine, and placed his palm to my chest, urging me back against the wall of the temple.

"I can't have you follow me," he regarded me sadly, his eyes betraying both dismay and resolve, as I felt my entire body still. A wave of cool green light coalesced over me, stemming from his hand.

"But - _pray for me_ ," he whispered, his voice shuddering and his eyes bright with tears again, as he let his fingers fall from my face, and at once, turned swiftly and ran for the centre of the room, his cloak flying out behind him.

I couldn't move, or scream, or cry. I couldn't draw an arrow in my bow, and help. I couldn't even blink. Horrified to realise that Martin had paralysed me – _why?_ \- I willed myself to break free of the spell, and go to him; rush forward and defend him, as I had promised I would do; be able to call out to him to wait for me – to stop – just, whatever he was doing, _stop_.

 _Don't do this alone,_ I thought, _begged_ , desperately.

But all I could do was watch, as Martin leaped into the empty stone bowl that the dragonfires usually burned within, and then stood tall, boldly and unfalteringly staring up to the enormous red hand of Mehrunes Dagon, which was descending through the middle of the Temple toward him; to capture, or crush him.

With a burst of flame from one hand, pointed downward into the bowl, Martin relit the dragonfires.

A scream tore its way through my throat and halted, unable to escape from my closed, frozen in place lips. My eyes watered painfully as I watched Martin jump out of the way of Dagon's hand. The Daedric Prince's fist crashed down onto the altar where the dragonfires were now burning enthusiastically. The stone basin broke, splitting it along its centre with a _CRACK_ and the two pieces jolted and slid onto the tiled floor, shattering the fine tesserae when it struck.

The flames of the dragonfires scattered, but roared and flickered wherever they landed, blazing brightly and fluttering frantically, fuelled by the hot air that was tumbling into the temple from the wound to its top; but never faltering and needing no fuel in the presence of a true Septim - a true _Dragonborn_.

When Dagon's hand rose again, I saw Martin standing beyond the destruction. I watched, unable to look away even if I had wanted to, as he drew the Amulet of Kings from his neck, and held the red diamond in one of his hands, high up above his head.

He said something, but I didn't hear what it was; only saw his lips move; his determined eyes forever fixed on Dagon. For a moment, I wondered if he was _offering_ the Amulet to the Daedric Prince.

But then he brought the hand holding the Amulet down, hard, upon what remained of the dragonfires stone alter.

There was a flash of golden light, and a piercing, ringing noise pealed through the temple; the sound engulfing the screams and destruction of the City and leaving room for nothing else.

What happened next came to me in a blur of white, as I tried to recover from the brightness of the explosion that I had been unable to shield my eyes from. It felt as though I was swimming through a thick fog, as I regained some sense of sight, and looked upon an all too bright, enormous, flaming dragon, that had appeared in the centre of the temple.

He was beautiful and terrifying, all at once, and if I had been able to, I would have staggered to my knees.

Martin had called up _Akatosh_ to assist us, from the Amulet of Kings.

I caught only a fleeting glimpse of the dragon standing in the ruined temple before the avatar of the Divine launched Himself up, and wrapped Himself around Mehrunes Dagon.

The Daedric Prince flailed against the slashing claws, gnashing jaws and winding tail of the dragon, before he grasped at Him with all four of his hands to pry the encircling, consuming golden being of light from him.

Akatosh was thrown from Dagon, but instead of falling, the dragon spread His great wings and beat them against the air, rising up menacingly and dodging to one side as Dagon swiped at Him with his axe.

As Dagon's axe-arm fell, the dragon leaped forward, sinking His teeth into Dagon's neck and shaking; Dagon lolled from side to side, as though he was a rag-doll. Fire erupted from the dragon's maw while He held Dagon, engulfing the Daedric Prince completely in white light, so that I could no longer make out his shape.

The brightness continued for mere moments and then the dragon relaxed; the white light faded, and Dagon was gone.

Akatosh landed on His hind legs, and sighed once, twice, before the serpentine golden head with its bright, crystalline eyes turned to look down at me.

His eyes flashed blue, for barely a moment, and the paralysis spell that held me with my eyes open and back to the wall held me no more. I crashed down onto the hard, stone floor of the temple, onto my hands and knees, and gasped for breath as my eyes watered profusely. The spell may as well have still been in effect, for I found that I had neither the strength, nor will, to rise.

All I could do was stare up at the great dragon before me, observing, and wondering, and fearing what His appearance had meant for Martin. I had not seen sight of him since the dragon had appeared, and the way His eyes had flashed blue a moment ago had sent a jolt, like a dagger, through my hope that he would step out from behind Akatosh at any moment.

The dragon then lifted His head, shrieking at the bruised, tumultuous skies above the City.

As His scream forced the clouds aside, to reveal a clear, peaceful evening sky, scattered with twinkling stars, the white and golden light surrounding the dragon began to fade. The screeching sound He made toward the heavens grew softer, as though drifting away on the breeze, and His form began to still, and solidify, and turn grey; to stone.

When the white light was gone and only a stone dragon remained in the place He had stood, the dragonfires at Akatosh's feet extinguished, and everything was suddenly very quiet, still, and cold.


	49. Aftermath

Even when the dragonfires had gone out, a part of me had held onto a tiny, flickering hope that Martin was coming back. I stared at the base of the stone dragon, willing him to step around its feet, whole and unharmed.

 _He asked Akatosh to help us, and stood against the wall on the other side of the temple, to avoid the cross-fire,_ a desperate part of me reasoned.

But he didn't emerge.

After a time, I cleared my throat.

"Martin?" my voice was barely a whisper, and shaking.

There was no reply, and my hope insisted that he simply hadn't been able to hear me.

My limbs were trembling as I found myself on my feet and walking toward the statue. The hope flared again, desperately, grappling for whatever it could; _he's been injured and is lying unconscious on the other side, out of view. He needs help, but will be fine; I just have to go to him._

I walked around the stone hind legs of the dragon, searching it and the remains of the temple. There was shattered stone and tiles and dust, but no signs of life. No trace of Martin.

After making my way around the base of the statue of Akatosh a second time, I turned away from it.

"Martin?" I called out, my throat crackly and dry.

My plea bounced off the walls of the temple this time, echoing cruelly in my ears as I waited again, willing his response to come, while deep within my soul, I knew it never would.

I swallowed painfully as I turned back to the dragon, and, stepping up to it, rested my palms gently against one of its legs. It was so cold. Any who would visit the temple and look upon the great stone dragon in years to come would not believe that it had once blazed brighter than any sun, or breathed ethereal white light, or beat its great wings to fly up high above the temple, or attacked a monstrous demon to stop him from destroying everything.

"Can you hear me?" I closed my eyes, pressing my forehead to the stone dragon's limb as I spoke. "Please, Martin; hear me. Please, come back to me?"

The cool, smooth stone was unyielding, and again, there was no reply. The Temple of the One was silent; eerily so, particularly after the onslaught of sounds that we had endured over the past few hours.

I remained in the quiet, devastated temple, my hands and forehead pressed against the dragon's leg, and my eyes closed, unable to shed any tears. I willed myself to turn to stone, and convinced myself that if I was still enough, and silent enough, for long enough, that I could join him.

But of course, I didn't turn to stone, and eventually Baurus arrived to coax me away.

"My Lady," his hands fell to my shoulders lightly. "We saw – I could hardly believe – and Jauffre guessed, after it was over," he rambled, cleared his throat, and then asked carefully. "Where is he?"

I opened my eyes and allowed him to turn me to face him, feeling ashen and insubstantial. There was no reason to stay at the base of the Akatosh statue. Martin was not coming back.

Baurus had asked me a question, but I searched him for answers. The Redguard was covered in soot, and there were trails of dark, daedric blood splattered across his armour. He seemed very tired, and somewhat still hopeful, but when he looked at me, his expression changed to one of defeat.

I wondered what he saw in me that made him change his face so, for I felt as though I wore no expression at all.

He nodded grimly in understanding, though I had said nothing. "Then it is over. All of it," he muttered, and his hands fell from my shoulders.

"Yes," I confirmed quietly. "The barriers have been sealed, and Dagon is gone," I said, as I took a step past him, placing my hand on his arm to steady myself as I did. My legs still felt shaky as I stepped around a pile of fallen white roof tiles that had been smashed to pieces when they had fallen, when Dagon had torn the roof off. "Tamriel is saved," I took another step away from him, away from the statue of Akatosh – _Akatosh and Martin_ – and felt the tears finally well in my eyes.

 _Stop talking_ , my mother's voice commanded. _You will make a scene. You are not the only person who has lost everything today._

I hadn't realised, but Baurus had turned with me. In a step, he was by my side, taking my arm, and helping me climb over the rubble that had collected around the entryway of the temple.

"Yes, on paper we have won, but at what cost?" he asked me in a low, bitter voice.

"I'm sorry," I told him truthfully, wiping my eyes with my free hand as my other clung to his arm. I wanted to push him away – to tell him to shut his mouth, and leave me be. Leave me in the temple, with all that was left of Martin, and let me become stone. But despite the harshness of my internal berating, or perhaps because of it, I could not do it; could not tell Baurus to go. To do so would be childish, and ungrateful. Baurus didn't deserve that.

"You're _sorry_?" Baurus replied, louder, in an aghast voice. "What have you to apologise for? Tamriel is saved, thanks to you."

I shrugged as we reached the exit to the temple, and ran my hand down the exposed door frame. The doors were gone; I couldn't see where. Probably underneath all the fallen stone around the entrance.

"Is it?" I asked him sullenly.

I faced the City then, and when I looked out over the Temple district laid out before me, I gasped and staggered back.

There were people. Crowds and crowds of silent people, gathered around the temple, along the streets, and standing on the rubble to get a better view, far as the eye could see. Many held torches and lanterns, and a few had small globes of bright Candlelight above them. All eyes were on the Temple of the One; on the still, grey stone form of Akatosh; and then, as though they turned as one, their eyes were on me.

Baurus' hold on my arm strengthened, as though he thought I might faint, or topple back over the rubble we had just climbed over. "My Lady?" he queried through the corner of his mouth.

I had only taken one step back, out of surprise, and could not tear my eyes from the sea of faces. At the base of the stairs leading up to the temple were the Blades, assembled in a line. When they noticed my eyes on them, each one - even Jauffre - bowed down on one knee. Bowed to _me_.

"No," I whispered to Baurus urgently, though I didn't turn to him; my eyes were locked on the mass of silent, watchful townsfolk, as they all began to bow; some simply lowering their heads, and others on a knee, like the Blades. Their eyes, their show of respect, their silence; it was all too much. It had been Martin who had saved us, not me.

"Please, Baurus," I shook my head minutely, in horror. "Tell them to get up," I muttered desperately.

His reply was kinder than I deserved. "I am sorry, my Lady, I cannot," he said in a low rumble. "You can endure their thanks, even if you do not believe this is your victory. If nothing else," he urged me to step forward, out of his grasp and onto the landing, "accept their gratitude on behalf of the man that you loved."

_Loved._

The word echoed in my head, and I closed my eyes to take a moment to breathe, and steady myself from the effects of the word.

 _But he is right,_ I told myself, as I opened my eyes, and took a step forward. _Do not dishonour his sacrifice by making this about you. It is about Martin. Stand tall, for Martin._

From the centre of the landing, I hesitated, and I heard Baurus come to a stop behind me. I looked out again, at first taking in the remains of the City. The Temple district was ruined; not a single house or apartment stood undamaged. Roofs were caved in; walls were shattered; trees and gardens were uprooted or replaced by tumbles of angry dark grey stones and ash. I cast my eyes further, to the White-Gold Tower; a silhouette in the night, as no lights seemed to be lit around or within it, for once. Further beyond the tower was the indigo horizon. The moons were yet to rise, though night had fallen, and the dark sky was clear of clouds and awash with an array of bright, twinkling stars.

 _Say something,_ I ordered myself, as I realised that the people below were silent because they were waiting for me to speak. _Tell them who saved us. Tell them._

I nodded and swallowed back my tears, and with them my desire to be alone to wallow in grief. Instead, I did what I had always done; my duty.

"The Amulet is shattered, and Dagon is defeated," I started, wishing that I could dispel the waver from my voice, but there was nothing for it. It was a wonder that I had not already burst into tears, given my history.

I cleared my throat, and raised my chin a little, as on the edge of my thoughts, I remembered my training. I called it forth, to help me through this task; letting my arms relax beside me, though I could not stop my hands from clenching into rigid fists.

_Tell them. Speak his name. Do not bury his memory._

I breathed shakily, again trying to draw strength from my breaths, and when I next exhaled, I found my voice.

"Martin Septim sacrificed himself, to call forth Akatosh, and to cast Mehrunes Dagon back into Oblivion. He sacrificed himself to protect every one of us, and seal the gates of Oblivion, forever," I continued; for the absence of the dragonfires, Oblivion gates, and Dagon himself, meant that it must be so.

The crowd listened, remaining silent and ever-watchful; drinking in all I said and waiting for more. Perhaps they merely wondered what was to happen to the Empire now, I thought. There was no Emperor, and no heirs; but then, there was no need to have a Septim on the throne any more, to keep the dragonfires lit, it seemed. Would the Elder Council simply name a new Emperor or Empress? Would there be a civil war, as families who believed they had a claim to the throne fought each other and the Elder Council over it?

I didn't have any answers for them, and I was not certain that I would be able to bear speaking for much longer, for all my conviction that the people know what had happened; what Martin had done for them.

I turned my eyes downward, to regard the sombre Blades, lined up at the base of the stairs. Looking at those who had survived, I realised that, without a Septim left in the world, the necessity of their very order would be questioned.

They might become as purposeless as me; whose life had wholly revolved around standing beside a Septim. That future was lost to me, forever, now.

 _Stop,_ I begged myself silently. _Do not even think of it yet._

"The task of rebuilding Tamriel now falls to us," I addressed those assembled before the temple, but my words were directed to the Blades, more than anyone else. "The shape of the future, and fate of the Empire, belongs to us."

Mercifully, this generated a response from below, but not from whom I expected.

Ocato, who I had not seen in the crowd until he stood, stepped up to join me on the landing. He walked steadily enough, though his face was marked with blood and there was soot and slash marks, made by gigantic claws, on his robes. Idly, I wondered how he had survived the attack at the City gates, and what adversaries he had battled to do so. I could not imagine the High Chancellor lifting a sword; but then, he probably entertained the same thoughts about me.

The Blades got to their feet then, and this encouraged the rest of the crowd to rise.

The High Chancellor looked sympathetic enough when he spoke to me, loudly enough so that the entire assembly would hear him. "Martin Septim died a hero to rival Tiber Septim himself. What an Emperor he might have made!"

I stared up at him, trying not to waver on the spot. The High Chancellor continued; addressing those assembled now as he spoke of grave times ahead, and of Martin's sacrifice being so unfortunately necessary to ensure our victory.

I closed my eyes, and felt Baurus take my arm again. I leaned on him, so that my knees wouldn't buckle beneath me. Ocato's words - he didn't even _know_ Martin! - lit a weak fire of fury within me, which was extinguished at once by the steadily-rising pool of grief.

It did not matter what the High Chancellor, or anyone, thought or said about Martin, did it? None in the City had known him. The Septims would now pass into history, and Martin's sacrifice would become a topic of gossip; the theme of bard's tales; the subject of legends.

Ocato turned to face me again; a look of officious pride on his face, as he spoke with a sonorous, unaffected voice. "Lady Sarina Passero, for your immeasurable services to the Empire, it is my honour to bestow upon you, in my capacity as Lord High Chancellor of the Elder Council, the highest rank possible in the Order of the Dragon; the Champion of Cyrodiil."

His words washed over me, and again, I willed him to stop speaking. _Another_ name was to be given to me; more prestige that I didn't deserve? It had always been others who had fought harder than I, who had fiercely defended me, and made any success possible only through their efforts.

So, I was to be honoured, when Martin was the hero?

Unaware of the effect his proclamation had had on me, Ocato went on to announce that a suit of Imperial Dragon armour was to be commissioned for me, but I noticed that, gratefully, the gathered crowd had begun to disperse, at its edges. It would not be long before I could leave.

_And where will you go?_

The question stilled me, and if Ocato said anything relevant after I had thought it, I did not hear him.

Where _would_ I go? I turned to look up at Baurus, wondering if he could tell me.

The Blade gave me an empathetic glance, and, misinterpreting my look at him – but, how could he have known what I thought? - he leaned in front of me, and muttered to Ocato, "With respect, High Chancellor; the Lady Passero has not slept in days. I must insist she be excused at once."

"Oh!" Ocato gave me an understanding look then, which for some reason, made me want to glare at him. I pushed the feeling away, reasoning it to be the product of a weary mind and grieving heart. As with Baurus; Ocato did not deserve to be demonised. If anything, he was exactly what the Imperial City needed in the wake of the war; a voice who would force everybody to act and think for the future.

"Yes, of course. By all means, my Lady," he bowed cordially, speaking in a lower tone that only Baurus and I would hear. "The White-Gold Tower is at your disposal."

I bobbed my thanks automatically, while I masked the conflict within me, which somehow also made me feel completely hollow and ungrateful anyway. I was filled with an urgency to leave; to hide; to be alone. Without a word, I nodded to Baurus, and we descended the stairs.

The Blades surrounded and escorted me; encouraging the crowd to draw back, as Baurus lead me on his arm, along the road and to the gate that separated the Temple district from Green Emperor Way.

I cast a glance behind me from the gate, to the stone form of Akatosh, who had simultaneously claimed and been Martin, who was now permanently a part of the Temple of the One. The statue's head was turned, so that it looked at the White-Gold Tower, and its wings were raised high above it, as though it was about to embrace the City. The dragon would be clearly visible, from any south or western facing room in the White-Gold Tower. It would be visible from my old bedroom.

Which mean that, when I returned to it tonight, Martin would be watching over me while I slept.

" _I will not sleep again, unless you are in my arms."_

I turned away quickly, but not quickly enough. The memory of Martin's voice; his vow from only earlier that very _day_ , swept through me, shattering my weakened composure. How little we had realised, as we had indulged in the prospect of a future together, that he would be right; but at the same time, so terribly wrong.

I managed to restrain my sob of despair until we had reached the entrance to the White-Gold Tower, but all I remembered after I had taken a step into the building was a blur of tears as my heart twisted and broke, and I could hold back the cold, embracing defeat no more.

–

The sun continued to rise and set, and the Blades remained close in the weeks that followed.

Ocato had been a little flustered by this. He had indulged their presence, but tried to insist that Merete and Thalfin be recalled to attend to me, as they had when I had last stayed there. But Jauffre must have had had some quiet words with the High Chancellor, because after a day or so, he did not bring the matter up again.

In fact, after that, Ocato had largely left me to myself, and I had returned to my old room in the Tower; the room I had thought of as mine, since I had been ten years old; the room with the view of the Temple of the One, that now had a statue of a dragon at its centre. I both longed for and dreaded the sight of that dragon, each day when I rose, and felt myself constantly drawn to the window to observe it; to check that it was still there, and to confirm that the past months had all really happened, and not been some sort of wonderful, but horrible dream.

And every time I did, it looked back at me. It remained unchanged, while the City altered, as the survivors of the Oblivion Crisis, as it was now being called, picked up the remains of their lives and rebuilt what had been destroyed.

The High Chancellor had visited briefly about a month after we had won the war, with the Imperial Dragon armour he had promised would be made for me. The sight of it had wrenched me out of the perpetual dream that I felt I was shifting through, but not in a pleasant way.

I had stared at it in horror, wondering if its being here was part of some cruel joke being played on me.

It was a delicate, largely ceremonial, feminine version of the armour that Martin had worn; the Imperial Dragon armour he had faced his death in. There was even a smaller version of the deep-purple cloak he had worn, complete with Akatosh-token pin, edged in fine red and gold embroidery with its hood lined in thick, white fur.

"It would be a lovely signal of your commitment to both the past and future Empires, if you would wear this to the memorial tomorrow," he had said to me, in a way that told me he had understood the poignancy of the design. To his discredit, he had vastly misinterpreted the effect it would have on me.

I hadn't been able to reply, and had just stared at him, wide-eyed. It was the wedding dress all over again; only much, much worse.

He had then somewhat hesitatingly excused himself, by reminding me that he was needed in the Elder Council chambers.

Ocato had stopped, by the door, as his long fingers had wrapped around the frame. "You...are invited to join us in the Elder Council Chambers, Sarina, when you are feeling up to it. We would welcome your input on several matters."

The Elder Council had been in session for weeks. I had not been keeping check on them. I had been invited to join them in their discussions since they had assembled, but this was the first time that Ocato had directly asked me to go.

I inclined my head a little, but when I spoke, my tone was flat. "Thank you, High Chancellor. I shall consider it."

He said something about the unwavering nature of my service to the Empire, which I barely heard, but I nodded in response, as he expected me to. Then he left.

It was no secret that the Council were planning to offer me the seat of Kvatch. I knew that if I did attend on the Elder Council, finalising that would be the first order of business, and I would not have the will to refuse the appointment.

I had joked about becoming the Countess of Kvatch with Martin, and with Caroline, but now that the position was all but mine, I was not certain that I could accept it. I did not regret helping the people of Kvatch to rebuild their city, but I did not feel that I could bear to reside there; to be permanently reminded of Martin, whose home had been Kvatch for so long, and of Caroline, whenever I crossed paths with Ilend. Given Ilend's unfaltering loyalty, particularly in Bruma, as though he felt he owed it to Caroline to watch over me, I knew that he would end up being assigned close to me, if I was to be situated in Kvatch.

I shook my head at my musings, again. Kvatch would be a discussion, and a decision, for another day, I decided.

The new armour – _my_ armour – tauntingly gleamed at me in the afternoon sun filtering through the window. Light danced along the golden thread of the embroidery on the cloak, and made the breastplate of the armour shimmer.

And just like that, the sight of Martin shattering the Amulet of Kings, and everything turning white and gold, was all I saw.

"The damned fool," Jauffre muttered furiously.

The Grandmaster had been with me all day, though had barely spoken to me. Each day, one of the Blades had been there, requesting nothing of me. I had vague thoughts on their reasons for shadowing me, but I had started to ignore their presence; they did not offer me the companionship that Caroline had, and I did not want it from them, anyway. Caroline could not be replaced, so they didn't even try to be what she had been to me.

It was a little difficult to ignore Jauffre, though.

After he had cursed, I watched as he hurried toward the armour with a large woollen blanket.

I turned away as he covered it, blinking my eyes as the now-familiar cascade of grief pushed and pulled at my thin wall of calm; always ready to take hold of, and shatter it.

Facing the window, and gliding toward it, I reached my hand out to touch the glass and looked down at the statue in the Temple of the One, yet again.

"Say something, Jauffre," I commanded him quietly, my eyes on the stone dragon as my breath left a puff of white on the glass before me.

After the sounds of rustling; the blanket, being adjusted over the mannequin in the corner of my room; I heard him clear his throat.

"What would you have me say?" he asked gravely.

I tore my eyes from the dragon, and faced him with my brows crossed. "Anything," I said stiffly. "Tell me how I was wrong; how you were right. Tell me how this is my fault," I shook my head, and took a step toward him. "Tell me what I do now," I begged.

Jauffre's expression was blank and his mouth was turned down at the corner, when he answered.

"This is not your fault."

I closed my eyes, and felt a few tears slide down my cheeks, as I clenched my hands by my sides. "Yes, it is," I told him softly, trying to smooth the waver from my voice, by clenching my teeth. "If we had only hastened away from Cloud Ruler Temple, as you had asked us-"

"The outcome would have been the same," Jauffre supplied.

I opened my eyes, full of questions and lingering tears, but I waited for him to explain.

He sighed, and shifted toward the window now himself. "If there is fault to be laid, it is on my shoulders. It is true that I feared that the Dawn _would_ be able to reassemble themselves in time to organise an attack," he glared out the window.

"What I failed to realise was that the Mythic Dawn would _anticipate_ a scenario where we would return to the Imperial City with Martin and the Amulet of Kings, before they had been able to open the required number of Oblivion gates to summon Dagon," he shook his head, at himself, as he turned back to me and squared me with another blank expression that framed his weary eyes.

"It would not have mattered if we had stayed at Cloud Ruler for a few extra hours, or weeks, in the end," he shrugged. "The preciseness of the attack on the Imperial City indicates that they were not then a desperate and disorganised order, flailing in their new-found lack of leadership, as I assumed they would be. They knew exactly what they needed to do, and they did it. The only thing _they_ failed to consider was how Martin would respond. They underestimated him - completely," he said, a little sharper than before, as he nodded to me, and I had the notion that he was trying to keep from breaking down.

I was reminded, during that hint of Jauffre being more deeply affected than he was letting anyone know, that I had known Martin for months, but Jauffre had known him for his entire life. He had been charged with protecting him as a baby, and finding him a foster family, while keeping him close enough to ensure he remained safe, and ignorant of his true lineage. He had hidden Martin; educated and guided him, to make him the brave, compassionate, talented man that he had grown into. And now Jauffre seemed to be working his way through his grief, by turning to what he knew; assessment of stratagem.

"We all underestimated him," I told Jauffre quietly, not sure what I should say. I approached the Grandmaster tentatively, holding out my hand, and placed it on his arm. If it had been anyone else in the room mourning Martin's loss, I would have hugged them, but I did not feel as though Jauffre would appreciate such a gesture.

"Well," Jauffre huffed, still nodding. "He certainly made his point. He always did insist on winning an argument."

I turned my eyes down, trying not to both laugh and cry at the same moment, at the sheer absurdity of Jauffre's chastisement.

Jauffre chuckled a little at this; at my reaction, it seemed, though the sound was thick, and more friendly than I had ever heard from the Grandmaster. When I turned my eyes back up to him, he sighed, and placed a hand over mine, that was still on his arm in my effort to comfort him.

"What you should do next, Lady Passero, is entirely up to you," he resolved, gripping my hand a little. "But whatever you decide, you have the full support of the Blades, should you require it. Cloud Ruler Temple's doors will always be open to you. When you leave the White-Gold Tower, you might consider a period of reflection at Cloud Ruler, while you recover from all that has passed."

He had said it in kindness, but I felt my heart shudder at the prospect.

 _You could light the lanterns each day with Brother Piner,_ I thought sadly. The idea of being at Cloud Ruler Temple again; of stepping into the library where we had worked, or walking in the courtyard where we had trained; sent chills down my spine. I could not imagine a place where I would find less peace and more memories of both Martin and Caroline if I tried.

Rather than outright refuse him, for that would require explanation, I merely replied to him as I had replied to Ocato moments ago.

"Thank you, Jauffre. I will consider it," I extracted my hand from his grasp.

Jauffre seemed confused by my response, and I saw him cross his brows with a look of slight frustration, before I turned away.

Being in my room, with the covered up mannequin in the corner, and _Jauffre's_ empathy, was too much to bear. I found myself gliding toward the door, and felt as though I was in a trance.

I stepped out into the hallway; my slippers making no sound on the flagstones as I glided along them.

I could hear that Jauffre had followed me; whoever was assigned to me for the day always did; but he maintained a respectful distance as I walked the hallways with their tall ceilings and sparkling chandeliers and arched windows at intervals.

I wandered idly, with no destination in mind; my eyes drifting to the windows each time I passed by a western-facing one, though I saw little but the afternoon sky from the distance I maintained from the glass. I climbed staircase after winding staircase; took turns at random when junctions appeared before me; and before long, found myself in front of a large, closed, wooden door, near the top of the Tower.

Somewhat coming back to myself as I realised where I had brought myself, and wondering what had possessed me to come _here_ , I gripped the door handle, and took in a deep, silent breath. I turned the handle, and pushed.

The door slid soundlessly inwards, across the smooth tiles.

I stopped in the open doorway, and peered into the dim room. It looked disused, and sad. The curtains were closed, and the fireplace was cold. A single, fluttering lantern had been lit and placed on the mantle, in case anyone wanted to use the room; though it was clear that nobody had sat in it for a while.

The chair that Ebel Septim had been murdered in had been removed, and a long, low lounge had been put in its place, facing the fireplace. The room had been scrubbed clean, and smelled only of lantern oil and citrus.

I stared at the curtains, blocking the afternoon sun, and frowned. _Ebel would have hated this._

One of my hands brushed the pocket of my dove-grey dress; reminding me of the contents, which I had kept on my person since I'd recovered it.

I had completely forgotten about Caroline's letter, which I'd stowed in a pocket hastily before I'd plunged into Paradise, until the evening we had won the war, when I had stripped off my armour. Holding the letter close that first night, but unwilling to open it, I wished that she could be there with me, for it might make Martin's loss even a little easier to endure. My grief for Caroline had flooded me and merged with the pain I felt in Martin's passing, only hours after he had sacrificed himself. I had not coped well.

A whole month had passed, and I had still not read it. But as I looked around the room that Caroline and I had found Ebel in, and the sadness and frustration swept through me in seeing a place he had enjoyed becoming forgotten, I decided that it was time to let light into this room, and read Caroline's letter; right then and there.

Resolve flared within me as I strode toward the windows, and drew back the tall curtains.

"Call for some firewood," I asked Jauffre, as I whipped the heavy material back, to usher in what remained of the day. Afternoon sunlight streamed into the room, washing out the stone tiles and plastered walls. "I will stay here for a while."

He wordlessly obeyed, and when the last curtain was pulled aside, which yielded an impressive view of the Temple district and the dragon statue, I rested my hands on the glass panes and stared down at it again.

"Lend me your strength," I whispered to it – to him, "and help me to be brave again."

My eyes travelled along the arch of the dragon's wing. I gazed over what I could make out of its form, as I accepted that I might never, truly, come to terms with everything that had happened since I had last stood in this room.

When I heard approaching footfalls, I turned to face the cold room once more.

I knew that over time, I would learn to simply live with what had happened, for there was little choice in the matter, truly. Not unless I wished to make a mockery of all we had achieved, and fought for.

Jauffre had returned with a pair of Tower servants who, after bobbing their hellos and casting me curious glances, at once began to assemble a pile of logs in the fireplace. I moved across the room, sitting on the lounge in front of it, watching their progress for a while, before I turned my eyes down, and withdrew the rumpled letter from my pocket.

 _SP_ ; I gazed down at my initials in Caroline's hand. The corner where it was written had started to wear away, doubtlessly because I insisted on carrying it everywhere with me in my pocket.

Without further hesitation, I opened the letter and smoothed the single page out on my lap.

 _My dear Sarina,_ it began. Immediately, tears gathered in my eyes, but they did not fall. Caroline had so infrequently called me by my given name; only during times of urgency, or if something had surprised her. I had trouble remembering how it had sounded, spoken in her voice.

I noticed the fire before me blaze to life, as one of the servants lit it with a flick of their wrist, and turned my eyes back to the letter. If I mulled over every word on the page, it would take me the rest of the day to read.

 _My dear Sarina,_ I read again.

_I write to you simply to organise my thoughts, regarding my service to you._

I drew in breath and looked up at the sound of the door closing; the servants had departed. Jauffre had closed the door behind them, and was now standing next to it, with his arms crossed, and his head bowed, staring at the floor; his expression one of deep thought.

I turned back to the letter again, willing myself to focus as Caroline's voice found its way into my thoughts. Suddenly it was as though the rest of it was read to me by her, as my eyes flickered over the words.

_You will never see this letter, but I am writing it so that when I speak to you, once you are safe in the White-Gold Tower, I will know what needs to be said. I do not have your gift with words, so I must prepare for that day and the conversation I am more resolved each day to have with you._

_During our journey around Cyrodiil, which we are still on as I write, I began to see that you and I are both maintaining the relationship between us, that has been in place since you were a child, out of nothing but habit. You don't need me fawning over you, particularly once you are wed, and an Empress no less. I love you, and always will, as though you are my own daughter. At times during your childhood, when your mother had been particularly unfeeling toward you, I in fact did wish that you were my own._

_But I am not your mother, and you certainly no longer appear to need mothering, day any night. I find myself conflicted as I write this, however, because in truth, I do not wish to leave your side._

_What I propose, as you have probably guessed by now, has also been instigated by your introducing me to Ilend Vonius. We spent barely a day together, but having always put my duty to the Septims and yourself before all else, I cannot deny that I am moved by his attention to me._

_I have written to the Grandmaster, as well, which is a letter I shall give him, proposing that, once you have re-established yourself in the White-Gold Tower, I take a leave of absence of my duties. He does not need to know the details of why I ask such a thing; and besides, the truth would likely serve only to annoy him, as the prospect of love tends to do._

_This period of leave will not only allow me the time to explore what, if anything, is to come of Ilend's interest in me (and I cannot deny that the interest is mutual), but also allow you to become the woman that you are destined to be; even if it means that you never brush or style your hair properly again._

The letter ended there, unfinished, and found myself laughing at her final words, through my unshed tears. I wondered what else she would have said, if she had been able to finish it.

So, she _had_ loved Ilend, or at least entertained the notion that she might come to love him. And, she had noticed that we were maintaining the role of Lady and bodyguard because we had wanted to, not because we had needed to. By the time we had travelled around Cyrodiil together, she had become more than my bodyguard; she was my teacher, and my dearest friend – and in truth, cared for me more than my mother ever had – but her duty to me had prevented her from living a life of her own.

I leaned back on the lounge, holding the letter to my chest, as I stared at the flames dancing in the fireplace, and remembered her. The life she might have lead? Yes, it had been cruelly taken from her. She had not deserved the fate that Dagon and Camoran's machinations had created for her. For that matter, _none_ of us did.

But the tears that I had assumed would pour out of me upon reading Caroline's final words didn't come. Perhaps it had been Ohtesse's doing, since she had lessened my grief for Caroline on the road to Bruma. Perhaps it had been that the last sentence had been about brushing my hair, which meant that her final words to me had been not of sadness, but filled with her infallible cheeriness and humour.

Whatever the reason, I didn't try to overthink my reaction, for once. I let myself be, and simply remembered Caroline.

After a while, my thoughts drifted to Kvatch. Perhaps I _could_ take up the position of Countess of Kvatch, after all, some day? It would be nice to be in a place, with those who liked and respected me, where I might speak for the people that _my_ loved ones had cared about.

Before I could mull over Kvatch any further, there was a knock to the door of Ebel's drawing room. Jauffre answered it, and talked to somebody outside of the room for a moment.

"What do you mean, _rest_ of her letters?" I heard, as he raised his voice.

I glanced to the door curiously, as I placed Caroline's letter on the lounge beside me. "What letters?" I asked. Perhaps there was word from Eyja, who had returned to Rosethorn Hall, wondering when I might next arrive for a visit.

Jauffre flashed me a glance, then turned back to whoever was at the door. "You had better bring them in," he told them.

They didn't need telling twice. The same two servants from before entered the room and approached; each bearing a large satchel overflowing with scrolls, letters and notes.

My eyes widened at the sight. There was simply no way that all of these had arrived for me in the space of a single day, so as they crossed the room, I had to ask, "Who told you to keep my mail from me?"

One of them replied, as he placed the satchel he carried on the floor in front of me. "Nobody, my Lady. In truth we didn't think of bringing these to you, until we saw you with that letter, just now," he nodded to Caroline's letter, by my side.

The other servant deposited the satchel she bore by the first. "Some of it arrived the last time you were away, my Lady," she added. "The staff thought it best to keep it safe for you here, rather than send couriers out to try to locate you, given the...number of them."

I nodded then, as my eyes roved over the satchels. Sorting it would take some time, and be a welcome distraction.

But who on Nirn could have written _this_ amount of mail to me?

"I understand. Thank you."

I reached out and took the topmost letter from the satchel closest to me. It was a relatively small note, and addressed to _the Hero of Kvatch._

I frowned at the letter, placing it on the lounge, next to Caroline's open letter, and reached for the next. A larger envelope; this one sealed with a spot of wax; again addressed to the Hero of Kvatch.

"What is this?" I asked the servants.

They shrugged and bowed, and with their task complete, took their leave.

I blinked, baffled, as I picked up another letter addressed to the Hero of Kvatch, and crossed my brows at it. "Jauffre," I muttered, "can you ask for some tea to be brought up? This might take some time."

"As you like."

He left to see to that, and I stopped removing letters from the satchels and instead, opened the first one that I had placed next to me. I scanned it hurriedly. It was from a woman I'd never met – a mother – named Seed-Neeus, who lived in Chorrol. I drew in a breath as I read the woman's plea.

_I don't mean to impose but I am hoping that you can help me. My daughter, Dar-Ma, is missing and I don't know what to do. She was scheduled to make a delivery for me in the village of Hackdirt-_

The letter went on, and I put it aside, frowning again, and wondering how long ago it had been written. Had someone else helped this woman to find her daughter, or was she still missing?

I picked up the next letter, unsealing it in a rush. It was from a woman called Tivela Lythandas, from Cheydinhal.

_I am sorry to be so forward, but I desperately need your help. It seems that my husband, Rythe, has gone missing, and I just don't know what to do. I love him dearly, and I am so worried-_

Drawing in a deep breath, I placed Tivela's letter on top of Seed-Neeus', and reached for another with some trepidation.

_My name is Agronak gro-Malog. I am known as the Gray Prince, and have never made it a secret that I am only half Orc. I am a Lord's son, yet have been denied the noble privilege to which I am entitled. If I could prove who I really am-_

I hurriedly cast this letter down with the others, and picked up another.

_I'm being followed. Watched. Marukhati Selectives, maybe. Not sure. I'm a threat, you see? To their plans. I know too much. I need you to check out some people for me, the ones that are following me. I'll pay you - gold. You like gold, don't you?_

They were all along similar lines; asking that I assist them in some form or other.

_We have a small problem that we hope you can help us with. Everyone in Aleswell suddenly became invisible several weeks ago. It was sort of fun at first, but the novelty has definitely worn off now-_

Some requests were a little...trivial, to say the least.

_Can you help me find my lost Jumbo Potatoes? Please, you must help me find them! If I don't have them for the next batch of my Famous Potato Bread-_

And some were rife with anguish; my chest constricting as I read each word on the page.

_Barely a week ago, I left Harm's Folly to go buy supplies as I usually do once a month. What a fool I was to leave my wife alone. The Goblins must have been watching me, as they knew right when to strike-_

Jauffre swam into view, carrying a laden tea tray, which he placed on a small side table not far from me.

I glanced at him, and met his eye. There was some curiosity on his otherwise stern features, but he said nothing.

"Help yourself," I nodded to the tray quickly. "And," I added, holding the letter in my hand out to him. "Tell me what you make of this?"

Jauffre took the letter cautiously and remained standing by the tea things while he read. I watched him closely, as his expression changed, shifting to a look of consternation.

"Are they all pleas for assistance?" he held the letter back out to me once he'd read enough.

I took it, and stared down at the ones I had opened. "More or less."

Jauffre nodded, and turned to the tea; pouring a cup for myself, and one for him. I watched the brown liquid sloshing into the fine white porcelain, and felt a prickle of unease take hold of me.

There were sad, desperate people out all over Cyrodiil, entreating that I, or at least the hero they believed I was, to help them. And I was sitting forlornly in a room in the White-Gold Tower, drinking tea.

Jauffre asked, as he handed the cup on a saucer to me, "Do you intend to act on these requests?"

I took a sip of the hot tea, and looked to the flickering fireplace. "That would be the honourable thing to do," I replied.

Jauffre took a seat on the lounge, on the other side of the letters I had already opened. The white tea cup and saucer looked very out of place in his large, weathered hands, and I couldn't help but smile over the lip of my own cup at this image of him, as I took another sip.

When he spoke finally, he sounded a little strained.

"Will you consider waiting, before you ride off into the wilds of Cyrodiil, until we know for certain whether or not you are carrying Martin's child?"

_This again?_

I shook my head, pushing back my frustration as I lowered my tea cup to its saucer in my lap with a _chink_.

"Jauffre, no," I couldn't keep the hard edge from my voice. "If that is why you have had the Blades keeping watch of me, night and day-"

"It's not," he cut in quickly.

I squared him with an unimpressed look. "Really?"

"I promise you, my Lady, it's not," he said sombrely this time. "We have a debt to stand by you, on behalf of Caroline, and at the request of _two_ Emperors of Tamriel," he said, more harshness now in his tone than his words warranted. "And if you _are_ about to become the mother to the last Septim Tamriel will likely know, our protection naturally extends to your child as well. You will be kept safe, for the rest of your lives."

I stared at Jauffre and swallowed, feeling drained by the entire conversation suddenly. His look was expectant; demanding, almost, so I decided that it was time to bring an end to this matter, once and for all.

"I am not carrying a Septim," I told him quietly.

Jauffre's mouth straightened out into a grim line, and he nodded. "I see. I am sorry," he said, with a sigh, and sat back. "I know that you loved him, dearly. His child might have brought you some comfort."

I nodded, bristling, and took another sip of tea as I cast my eyes back to the fireplace, and the flickering flames within it.

And with that, I decided that it was time to leave the Tower, and all those who kept trying to protect me, so that I could become the woman, the champion, and the hero, that Tamriel needed me to be right now.

Jauffre had left me, not long after, when I had told him I would remain in Ebel's room to read all of the letters that had been sent to me. He said he would send Jena to collect me in an hour or two, when it was time to prepare for dinner.

I knew I would not be there when she returned, but I would have to act quickly. Minutes after he had gone, I folded Caroline's letter, put it back in my pocket, picked up what I could of the other letters, and walked out of Ebel's drawing room without looking back.

I hastened to my room, put Caroline's backpack on my bed, and stuffed the letters I had carried down inside it. I hastily slipped out of my shoes and pulled my dress over my head. The Passero seal, hanging on its chain around my neck; recovered from Cloud Ruler Temple by one of the Blades during the past month for me; bounced against my chest at my hurried movements.

 _But the memorial is tomorrow,_ I reminded myself. _What are you doing? You can't leave now!_

I threw on a warm, padded tunic and dark leggings, and I ignored my internal voice.

I assembled my armour from the various sets that I had collected over the past months. The leather trousers from the armour I had worn into Paradise. The arm bracers from the new Imperial Dragon armour. The cuirass I had been given in Kvatch on the night Ruma Camoran had burned. The standard-issue Blades boots, with the useful, hidden sheath for Caroline's dagger, which had ended Mankar Camoran's reign. The blue Cheydinhal cloak, gifted to me by a foolhardy man who had, barely a day after, ridden into Oblivion and disappeared, chasing down imagined glories.

I added a sword belt, though I did not yet have a sword for it, and shouldered my quiver, as I noticed that I'd have to buy some more arrows once I was out of town. Finally, I collected the beautiful ebony bow that Ebel had gifted me from where it had been stowed all this time, in the cupboard. I weighed it, relishing the feel of it in my hand; the weapon that had been made specifically for me, so that my arrows might fly true.

Standing before the mirror once I was done, I stared at myself. My hair was falling free around my face in a dark tumble of curls – _just as Martin liked it_ – and my eyes were wide and fiercely determined. I looked less the pampered Lady and more the adventuring hero that Cyrodiil wanted me to be than I perhaps ever had.

Nodding at my reflection with satisfaction, I grabbed Caroline's backpack, full to the brim with letters from those who needed my help, and I walked from my room in the Tower; a part of me knowing that I would never return.

"I am going for a ride," I told the Legion guards on duty, as I walked out of the White-Gold Tower.

"Very good, my Lady," one of them acknowledged. None of them tried to stop me.

I could have gone straight to the stables via the Talos Plaza district, but I found myself making for the Temple district instead.

 _If you will not be here for the public memorial tomorrow,_ I told myself in a rush, as I raised the hood of my cloak, _you must at least say good bye to him._

I shook my head at myself; at my reasoning. Had I not been saying goodbye, in my own way, for the past month? Such a detour would surely attract attention, and inevitably, draw the Blades to my location.

But I went anyway.

The road to the temple was clogged with people; builders and traders, servants and nobles, groups of children playing; all too busy with their own affairs to notice me. I slipped along the street that was slowly being reformed, as the afternoon cast elongated shadows along its length. The sun would set, very soon.

I made directly for the Temple of the One. No effort had been made to rebuild it, yet, though the rubble and dust had been cleared away. I had the thought, as I walked up the stairs for the first time since that fateful day, that it would be better if the temple was left exactly as it stood now, with the dragon forever guarding its remains, as a reminder of all that had been won and lost.

I stepped in, slowing as I did, and I stared up at the great dragon in its centre.

"Hello," I said to it. My voice sounded so small in the cavernous room; in the presence of the dragon.

My boots tapped and my armour chinked a little, as I approached the statue and held out my hand, pressing it to the leg of all that was left of the avatar of Akatosh.

"I have to leave now," I told him, in a quiet tone, so that my voice wouldn't echo around the temple walls. "I'm sorry that you can't come with me," I swallowed, remembering that Martin had spoken similar words to me, before he had run, headlong, to his fate.

I closed my eyes, taking a deep, steadying breath, imagining that I was able to draw strength from the statue.

"But," I continued, as I rested my forehead against the dragon's leg, and closed my eyes, "if you can hear me; if you are up there, somewhere, with your ancestors, looking down on us; watch over me." I let out a shuddering breath, trying not to laugh. "Watch over our child," I raised my other hand to my abdomen; where the little life had taken hold and was growing bigger within me, day by day.

Yes, I had told Jauffre that I was not carrying a Septim. It had not, technically, been a lie, and I would not be showing for months yet, so he would not have been able to guess otherwise. But while Martin was the father, our child would never bear the name Septim; never be held up and used as a political tool, or be hunted by whatever remained of the Mythic Dawn or Daedric Princes that wanted to toy with them. Our child would be a Passero, and my name would protect them.

Perhaps, if the fates lead me to Martin's former home, our child would become the future Count or Countess of Kvatch, if they liked.

Or perhaps they would choose a different path. They might be a healer like their father, or a warrior like Caroline; they might train horses or mix potions, or make wine or farm cabbages. It didn't matter. The choice would be theirs, not one to be made for them by Councillors or Blades, or even by me.

I turned and left the Temple of the One, and stepped out to face the City, and the twilight sky. The sun had finally set, while I'd been saying my farewell.

 _And what of your destiny,_ I asked myself? _You can't traipse around Cyrodiil, fixing others problems when you're as big as a house._

I smiled at myself; at the image invoked. No, but I could help those I was able to, until it was time to be still for a while. And when that time arrived, I would be a better mother than mine had ever been to me. I would love our child, to leave them with an inner voice full of encouragement and affection. And I would tell them stories about their courageous, kind, beautiful father, who had protected us, and everybody who lived in Tamriel, with his life.

After I had walked out of the Imperial City, and collected Tor from the stables, I chose a path, and rode for the horizon.

–

The end


End file.
